


The Darkness Around His Heart

by Heather_Night



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Banshee Powers, FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, Family, Future Fic, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Isaac Lahey, Post-Series, Scott is a Good Friend, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 18:43:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12990207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather_Night/pseuds/Heather_Night
Summary: This trip was getting stranger and stranger by the minute.  Maybe Stiles had knocked back a few drinks on the plane.  Well no, Isaac didn’t smell any alcohol; he just inhaled the scent of fresh—part sheets drying in the fresh air and part fresh baked cookies.It had always angered Isaac that the one person who smelled like home—home being where he grew up, when his mom was alive—was Stiles Stilinski, asshole extraordinaire.





	The Darkness Around His Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story between Season 6, Parts A and B, and felt certain Isaac would return for the last half of the final season and my story would be Jossed. Since Isaac didn't make his triumphant return in the last season I feel like I can call this canon compliant with the qualifier it's set in the future.
> 
> Tagging is not my strength so if you think I missed something heinous please let me know. I think this is one of two stories in this round that I've rated Explicit so please bear that in mind as the sex scenes are as advertised with the rating (and this almost degenerated into tree porn but I digress).
> 
> Without further ado, I give you the story no one requested--the love story between two frenemies.

Something had happened to Scott and Isaac found himself recalled back to Beacon Hills. 

_Recalled._ Isaac snorted. Chris Argent was the only person Isaac knew who spoke as though he was a product of the armed services. It didn’t matter how the request was phrased though—when Chris had contacted Isaac, it had been a no-brainer. 

Isaac hated Beacon Hills but he didn’t hate Scott, Melissa or Chris. Everyone else…yeah, he might’ve hated them. 

Right now Isaac had been tasked with going to the airport to pick up Stiles Stilinski, the big shot FBI Agent. The only wheels at Isaac’s disposal were the Ducati Monster 696 he’d driven up the coast. He hoped the squirrely human was highly inconvenienced by the mode of transportation.

Was he being petty? Why yes, yes he was.

He could admit to himself that he’d nursed some hostile feelings for Scott’s best friend but Isaac had always been careful about voicing them. In Isaac’s opinion Stiles was an entitled little asshole who made everyone’s life a trial but the McCalls just didn’t see the prick that way. Even Chris liked the little shit.

Isaac cruised through the arrivals lane and recognized Stiles, exiting the building, right away. The guy looked good with his brown leather jacket, dark sunglasses pushed up on styled bed-head hair and messenger bag slung across his body as he emerged into the dark shaded area. Accelerating around a Mercedes, Isaac screeched up to the sidewalk and flipped his visor back.

Stiles made eye contact and headed right for Isaac. “Thanks for picking me up,” Stiles said. “I really appreciate it.” The tone sounded sincere and Isaac didn’t detect a change in his heartbeat. “Any news?”

Isaac shook his head no and Stiles frowned but didn’t comment.

It had been six years since Isaac had laid eyes on Stiles and Isaac had maybe figured the other guy would act the same—all sarcasm and superiority. Isaac wasn’t going to let his guard down but Stiles’s pleasant greeting had pretty much taken the wind out of Isaac’s sails.

Shifting around, Isaac grabbed the spare helmet out of the Ducati Performance Tail Bag. “Here, put this on and I’ll put your bag in this compartment.”

Stiles complied without hesitation, the model of cooperation. The guy tried jamming the helmet on over the sunglasses perched atop his head so Isaac gestured to them. 

“What?” Stiles asked, brown wrinkling as though in deep thought.

“Your sunglasses,” Isaac said, editing out the _dumbass_ he was tempted to tack on. He remembered Stiles as not only a smart-ass but also as being smart but now he seemed confused. Must be the stress of Scott going missing or something. At least the guy didn’t argue, just tucked his glasses into an inner pocket of his jacket and pulled the helmet onto his head, struggling to get the strap tightened under his chin. 

“Um, how do I get on? Do I have to mount from the left side?” Stiles asked, his deep voice muffled by the helmet but Isaac could easily hear him due to his supernaturally enhanced senses. Other parts of Isaac’s body were taking interest now that Stiles had invoked the word mount. What the hell?

“I think that’s horses. Just swing a leg over and hold on tight. I’ll have us back to Beacon Hills in an hour or so.” Isaac kept his tone neutral. This trip was getting stranger and stranger by the minute. Maybe Stiles had knocked back a few drinks on the plane. Well no, Isaac didn’t smell any alcohol; he just inhaled the scent of fresh—part sheets drying in the fresh air and part fresh baked cookies. 

It had always angered Isaac that the one person who smelled like home—home being where he grew up, when his mom was alive—was Stiles Stilinski, asshole extraordinaire. 

Isaac suppressed the snort as he watched Stiles swing his leg over the rear of the bike. The tail bag made it harder to do but Stiles’s long legs made it look easy. At least until Stiles jolted hard up against Isaac’s back. 

“I’m not kidding. Hold on tight,” Isaac warned before he turned his head and checked the lane. He gunned the engine and they peeled out, merging into traffic.

Despite wearing his leathers for protection, Isaac loved the feeling of freedom and danger he got from zipping down the highway on a stylish motorcycle at 100 mph. Stiles added to the sexy element of the ride; he was plastered to Isaac’s back and he’d listened to Isaac, wrapping his arms tightly around Isaac, one hand splayed across his chest and the other across his abdomen. Stiles was even an active passenger, leaning into turns without prompting. If it had been someone else, and for a different reason, Isaac would’ve considered this a companionable ride. As it was Isaac had to remind his body that the toned male hugging him was not trying to get it on with him. The thought of him and Stiles together…just no.

The traffic was congested so it took more than an hour but at last Isaac coasted to a stop in front of the McCall’s house. It’s where he and Chris had been staying since they’d returned yesterday, separately, to Beacon Hills.

Isaac turned off the engine and put down the kickstand, waiting for Stiles to get off. Nothing happened unless you counted Stiles’s head leaning more heavily against the back of Isaac’s left shoulder.

Chris came out of the house, frowning. “Shit. I forgot you had your bike. I would’ve had you take my car. Melissa will have my head if this sets back Stiles’s recovery,” the hunter muttered as he approached.

“His recovery?” Isaac asked, latching on to Stiles’s arms as his grip finally released.

Chris was there to pull Stiles’s helmet off, handing it to Isaac before he slid Stiles off of the side of the bike. He locked his arm around Stile’s back, holding him upright. “Concussion. He’s on medical leave.”

Isaac quickly followed suit, swapping the helmet for Stiles’s messenger bag in the tail compartment. “I didn’t know. He didn’t say. Here,” Isaac held the bag out. “I’ll get Stiles inside and you can bring his bag.” He might as well put his shifter strength to use.

The two men made the exchange, Stiles leaning heavily against Isaac. The listing male groaned, “Just five more minutes.” Apparently the human thought he was sleeping in bed and the alarm was going off or some stupid shit like that.

When Isaac took a step and Stiles staggered, he just hefted the relaxed body into his arms, bridal style. He figured Stiles would have a conniption. Only Stiles remained blissfully unaware, snuggling his face into the join of Isaac’s neck and shoulder. 

The guy was shorter than Isaac by at least four inches and he was a lightweight. If not for his long limbs flopping around, the burden would’ve been negligible. Stiles must have hollow bones, like a bird. 

In Isaac’s mind, the loud human was a larger than life character and to have him compliant and snuggled in his arms, well it was doing a bit of a number on Isaac’s headspace.

Isaac carried Stiles up the porch steps and into the house, depositing the sleeping man on the couch. Now that Isaac could get a good look at the human, he saw evidence of injury in the bruising around the left side of his face and dark smudges beneath his eyes. Long lashes rested on high cheekbones. Isaac acknowledged Stiles was attractive. At least when he was sleeping and not talking nonstop and picking fights with him.

A car door slamming in the driveway made Isaac glance toward the door. Melissa McCall bustled inside. “Oh good, your back. Noah will be here in about fifteen minutes and then we can come up with a game plan,” she said.

Isaac glanced down at the slumbering man and then back at his surrogate mother. If everyone was relying on Sleeping Beauty for a plan of attack, they were in big trouble.

Melissa approached the couch, frowning. She knelt down, pushing some hair back from Stiles’s brow. “Oh yeah, they really did a number on you, didn’t they sweetie?” she quietly commented. 

With his hair pushed back, Isaac could follow the trail of bruising on the left side of Stiles’s face as it spread around his left eye and then disappeared into his hairline. The blacks and purples of fresh damage stood out starkly against the pale skin.

“What happened to him?” Isaac asked. He figured Stiles probably mouthed off to the wrong person and paid the price.

“We think it was a coordinated attack. We’re not sure if they tried to kidnap Stiles or if they just wanted to get him out of the way so he wouldn’t interfere with Scott’s disappearance. It sounded like a couple of werewolves caught Stiles’s off guard,” Chris explained. 

“Yeah, Rafa said if Stiles hadn’t been carrying Mountain Ash, he’d probably be dead instead of concussed,” Melissa continued the account of the attack.

When Isaac lived with the McCalls, Melissa had referred to her ex-husband in less than glowing terms. Now when she mentioned his name, she seemed to hold a certain fondness for him. Apparently a lot had changed in the intervening years.

As usual, Isaac felt left out.

Chris slapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s grab a bite to eat before the sheriff gets here.”

Isaac happily followed the older man into the kitchen where they set about making ham and Swiss sandwiches on rye in a well-choreographed effort. He tried to filter out the noises coming from the living room but no matter what he tried, he couldn’t distract himself from Stiles’s deep voice answering Melissa’s quiet questioning.

Stiles was tired and he had a migraine but he didn’t want to take the medicine the doctor had given him until after they had a chance to talk about what had happened to Scott. Stiles maintained Scott was their priority and Melissa tried to get him to slow down and take care of himself but he brushed her off. As much as the nurse cared for Stiles it was apparent she wanted to get her son back and wasn’t going to put up too much of a fuss.

Another slamming door from the driveway followed by footsteps on the porch announced the latest arrival: Sheriff Noah Stilinski.

Isaac scowled as the father and son had a reunion replete with hugs and asking after each other’s health. The interaction between them was so full of saccharine, Isaac was afraid he’d come down with diabetes. Of course if he did, his shifter genes would fix it but still it was over the top and nauseating.

Chris caught Isaac’s eyes and he nodded toward the living room. The two carried the plates of sandwiches and a big bag of chips along with a six-pack of Pepsi into the other room where Melissa hovered close by where the sheriff sat next to his kid on the floral couch. 

Stiles’s dad fell on the snack like a starving man with a grateful smile but Stiles kind of faded against the couch, his skin color turning a distressing shade of gray. Isaac remembered his dad hitting him so hard he was knocked out and how dizzy and nauseous he’d been afterward. Concussions sucked big time and Isaac’s animosity toward Stiles eased down a notch.

“I plotted the coordinates from Scott’s cell phone and it looks like he disappeared in the preserve. Have you had any luck finding anything around there?” Stiles asked as he sipped, gingerly, from a can of Pepsi.

“Two sets of footprints and then, mysteriously, just one set. I think I’ve found the exact location where Scott was taken but I haven’t found anything that points me in the direction of finding him,” Sheriff Stilinski confessed, his face pinched with frustration and worry.

“Lydia said she thinks she can do a locator spell. She was going to work with Deaton as soon as she landed,” Stiles shared as he rubbed his forehead. At least he touched the right side but left the other bruised side well alone. He looked at the watch on his wrist and frowned. “Actually, she should be working on it right now.”

Chris cleared his throat. “Lydia can do spells now?”

“Yeah, she started experimenting while at MIT,” Stiles answered. 

A cell phone trilled the announcement of an incoming call and Stiles dug into his front pocket to retrieve it; Isaac couldn’t help but notice the guy’s jeans were super tight. Tight as in they left little room for imagination. The other guy was definitely packing and Isaac wanted to ask if Stiles was carrying a piece or just happy to see him but he didn’t think the others in the room would be amused.

“Did you get a hit?” Stiles asked in lieu of a greeting.

The three older adults frowned on, unable to hear the other side of the conversation. Isaac could hear the female launching into a detailed report of her findings but he nudged Stiles’s foot and when Stiles glanced up at him, Isaac mouth _speaker phone_.

“Hey, Lyds, you’re on speaker phone. My dad, Melissa and Chris are here along with Isaac,” Stiles explained, interrupting her. Isaac remembered a time the feisty red head would’ve skewered Stiles for talking to her like that but here again was evidence things had changed.

“Good news, everyone,” Lydia bypassed the greetings, “I know the general vicinity of Scott’s location.”

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go get him back,” Isaac said, beginning to pace behind the couch. The sooner they got Scott back, the sooner he could get back to his own life. 

Isaac’s life differed greatly from the people in this house, with the exception of maybe Chris. There were no best friends or family who would notice Isaac was missing. In fact Isaac’s main relationships were one-night stands. Hanging around this house, where people spoke with and asked his opinion and included him…his heart wanted this but his head told him it wouldn’t last. Isaac only lost the people he cared about. Staying away was supposed to keep that from happening yet here he was, fighting to keep from losing another person he cared about.

Chris put a comforting hand on Isaac’s shoulder and gave it a brief squeeze. It immediately calmed Isaac down. They would get Scott back.

“Come on, Lydia, give us the coordinates,” Stiles pleaded. “We’ll go check it out.”

“I think we should wait until Malia is back later tonight. She’s our best tracker,” Lydia said. 

Melissa joined the conversation. “Maybe some of us could get the lay of the land. Not go in guns or claws a-blazing,” Melissa pinned first Stiles and then Isaac with a no-nonsense stare, “but do some reconnaissance.”

Chris and the sheriff were nodding their heads in agreement.

“That’s certainly reasonable. I just don’t want,” Lydia paused as though searching for a word, “ _someone_ rushing in and getting hurt.”

Once again Stiles was the center of attention. The other guy had his family and friends looking out for him not to mention his perfect job with the FBI.

Isaac felt like stomping his foot and screaming a la Jan Brady from _The Brady Bunch._

Sheriff Stilinski flashed a smile at his son and it was a bit evil looking. “Don’t worry, Lydia. I’ll handcuff Stiles to the couch if he’s pushing himself.”

Stiles cringed away from the sheriff although even Isaac could tell this was familiar territory, a play acted out many times between father and son for their own amusement. 

“Lydia, could you text us the coordinates?” Chris asked. “The sheriff and I will work out a search pattern and then see if we can come up with a plan for when Malia and the younger kids get here later.”

“Just so you know, we’re talking Eichen House territory here,” Lydia said before she signed off.

Everyone chorused their goodbyes and then the older adults once again turned and stared at Stiles.

“Lydia has more history with that place than I do. Hell, so does Malia. It’s fine. I just want to get Scott back,” Stiles rumbled.

The sheriff, Chris and Melissa seemed satisfied with the answer and began discussing a plan.

“I’m going to get something to drink. Does anyone want anything?” Stiles asked.

Everyone waved him off, Isaac arching an eyebrow at the strange behavior; Stiles should be all over the planning stage. It was his _thing_ according to Scott. Isaac had to admit Stiles had come up with some pretty decent plans before and that knowledge always rankled. 

From the kitchen, Isaac heard Stiles whisper, “Isaac, could you join me for a moment?”

The older adults firmly had their attention on each other so Isaac shrugged, joining Stiles.

“What?” he asked with mild belligerence. He wanted to be contributing to Scott’s rescue, not playing nursemaid to one of his least favorite acquaintances ever.

“I’ve got the coordinates. What do you say we go check things out?” Stiles suggested.

Isaac was flummoxed. Sure, he’d always known Stiles was a bit of a maverick but this, going against the wishes of literally everyone in the know, made Isaac rethink some of his opinions. Maybe Stiles wasn’t quite as self-absorbed as Isaac thought. Or maybe he couldn’t stand the thought of being left out of the rescue efforts.

Turning his attention to the living room, Isaac heard the sheriff suggest Melissa stay with Stiles; Melissa was not in agreement and countered that Isaac could stay behind since they were just gathering intelligence—she’d obviously been spending a lot of time with Chris as she spouted tactical words—and they didn’t need any of the _kids_ going in half cocked.

Nope. Isaac wasn’t going to let himself be marginalized. Turning to Stiles who was massaging his neck, Isaac grinned. “I’m in.”

They let themselves out the back door.

“Can we push your bike down the road and then take off? If my dad catches on he really will handcuff me,” Stiles said.

“It’s a Ducati Monster 696, not a bike,” Isaac threw his fingers up, twitching them in air quotes around the word bike. “Treat her with respect.”

Stiles actually grinned at Isaac. “Excuse me, I meant your Ducati Monster 696. I have the utmost respect for her. Scott’s going to be green with envy when he sees her.”

Isaac wasn’t sure what to do with a suddenly agreeable Stiles. He did a mental shrug before he kicked the stand back up and began pushing his Monster. It was heavier than it looked so it was a good thing Isaac had his shifter strength. Stiles trudged next to him.

Taking a deep breath, Isaac centered himself. He hoped he got an opportunity to use his shifter strength against the shitheads who had taken his friend.

-0-

Isaac enjoyed the press of Stiles against his back, the way he leaned into turns, and most definitely the way he wrapped his arms around Isaac’s body. That combined with the scent of home made Isaac want to trust the other guy despite their history.

Bypassing the gate leading into the foreboding compound, Isaac pulled to a stop down the road. Once Stiles got off and tucked his helmet into the tail bag, Isaac steered the Monster down the embankment, carefully, before turning it off. 

“Now who are these assholes who took Scott?” Isaac grumbled. He wanted a target for his rage.

Stiles snorted. “You know Scott, he believes everyone is good, at least until they prove him wrong. He struck up some sort of friendship with Dr. Fenris from Eichen House. I told him to be careful but Scotty never listens to me, says I’m too distrusting,” Stiles groused. “Anyway, unless there’s an unknown piece on the chessboard, that’s my best bet.”

It was Isaac’s turn to snort. “Yeah, Scott is a bit of a Pollyanna, wanting everyone to be good and pure.” He began walking toward the gated entrance and Stiles followed along.

“Dude, I totally could’ve used your back up when Theo—remember Theo Raeken?—returned to town. Maybe Scott would’ve listened to both of us and saved the pack a bunch of grief,” Stiles said, eyes going distant, shaking his head.

“You really think me and you would’ve agreed on something?” Isaac jibed back, uncomfortable with Stiles’s characterizations of them being on the same page.

“Seriously? You and I agreed on way more than I ever wanted to admit to. I mean, come on, I was jealous Scott was expanding his circle of friends and I was totally a dick,” Stiles shared.

Isaac gaped at him.

“What?” Stiles stared back. “You think I didn’t know I was being a jealous asshole?”

“I guess I never thought you’d admit it,” Isaac said.

“This isn’t an apology—you were as hostile to me as I was to you—but I’d like to think I’ve matured, at least a little,” Stiles shrugged this time.

“Well I’m not going to apologize for my behavior back then,” Isaac protested.

“Didn’t ask for one,” Stiles responded. “Anyway, I think you might get along with Liam, he’s Scott’s beta. He’s kind of like us—slow to trust and not afraid to voice his concerns,” he explained.

“Who else are you expecting to help with the rescue?” Isaac asked as they approached the gate. Stiles motioned to a path to the side of the gate; apparently security wasn’t a huge concern for the loony bin. Isaac supposed they were more concerned with people escaping instead of breaking in to the facility.

“Malia Tate—she’s Peter Hale’s daughter but don’t hold that against her. She’s a werecoyote and our best tracker. Liam and Hayden are both werewolves and also high school sweethearts. Mason is human but extremely sharp, always does his homework and has gotten us out of more than one scrape. His boyfriend Corey who’s a…hmm, I’m not sure what Corey is but he’s able to turn invisible. I think Scott’s dad is due in tonight, too,” Stiles reeled off the who’s who of Scott’s pack or pack adjacent members.

Isaac could feel his eyebrows climbing high on his forehead. “That’s quite a crew.”

“You know Scott, he always wants to take care of everybody,” Stiles said, fondly.

Yes, Isaac was aware; at one point in time Isaac had been Scott’s little project although Isaac would never share that with anyone. Who knows, if Isaac and Allison hadn’t started something up, or if Allison were still alive today, maybe Isaac would’ve stuck around instead of getting out of Beacon Hills.

They made an oblique approach to the imposing building, avoiding the cameras pointed at the entrance.

“This place sure has atmosphere,” Stiles commented. For the first time since they began this little adventure, the other guy seemed worried.

“I suppose that’s one way of looking at it. I think it’s creepy,” Isaac responded.

“I mean it’s a great example of French Chateauesque architecture but dude, you’re not wrong…it’s creepy. Even creepier inside,” Stiles swallowed convulsively.

That’s right, Stiles had spent time inside of the asylum. Hence everyone worrying about him. Again.

“What’s the plan?” Isaac asked. He figured Stiles had one. He usually did.

“I’ve got a little something that’s going to help us get past security. My guess is they’re keeping Scott in the sub basement special ward for supernaturals,” Stiles said as he rolled up his shirtsleeve. The guy was wearing a gray button down dress shirt over a white t-shirt and Isaac, who knew a bit about fashion, thought the clothing was tailored as it skimmed Stiles’s physique lovingly.

Isaac’s wolf strained for release when Stiles produced a pocketknife and drew a slit across a tattoo on his forearm. The tattoo was really just a swirl of black circles, not anything Isaac recognized. Why was Stiles defacing his shitty tattoo?

“Easy, big guy. This is going to protect us,” Stiles murmured as he slipped his knife back into his pocket.

The air around them shimmered and Isaac let his wolf loose.

Stiles smacked Isaac in the chest despite his altered appearance—but then again when had Stiles ever backed down from shifters?—and pointed to a side entrance.

“Let’s put that werewolf strength to good use. Go ahead and bust us in, but try to do it quietly,” Stiles whispered. “They can’t see us but they can still hear us.”

Isaac easily broke the lock on the door and they eased into the building. 

Stiles pointed down a hallway and Isaac headed that way, certain the other guy would stay on his heels.

They got to the end of the hallway and Stiles motioned to Isaac to open the door facing them. Isaac noticed the camera mounted over the doorway but so far no one had come running or sounded an alarm so he figured Stiles’s little magic trick was keeping them safe.

The two entered the dark, dank stairwell and descended into the depths of the basement.

Stiles tugged on Isaac’s sleeve and when Isaac turned to face the human, Stiles whispered, “Do you think you would recognize Scott’s scent?”

Isaac thought for a moment. Scott was puppies and kittens and fruit flavored Skittles…in other words, a human rainbow of goodness. “Yeah,” Isaac grumbled past his fangs.

“Okay then. I’ll follow you. If we find Scott, one of us needs to cause a distraction and the other one get him to safety,” Stiles continued to whisper. 

Isaac opened his mouth, about to ask who would be responsible for the distraction, but he could smell the fruity scent he needed. 

Loping down the stairs, Isaac pulled a Toucan Sam and followed his nose.

It might take minutes or might take hours but now that he had the scent, Isaac knew they would find Scott.

-0-

Once the scent trail ended, bedlam prevailed.

Three shifters poured out of a room and Isaac met them head on. He was more a lover than a fighter but he put his big frame to use, eager to get Scott free.

Isaac could hear Stiles talking to someone and in keeping with all villains, the bad guy du jour liked to hear the sound of his own voice. In between trading jabs with the shifters, Isaac heard who he suspected was Dr. Conrad Fenris explain how he needed Scott’s True Alpha mojo to change the world for the better, blah, blah, blah.

A burst of light exploded overhead and the three shifters cringed back against the tunnel wall. Before Isaac could engage them they slunk down the cavernous hallway, away from the action.

The doctor, Fenris, turned his attention to Isaac. “That’s right bitch, let’s go,” Isaac snarled as he advanced on the man.

Fenris’s lip curled up in what could be a smile, or gas, or even deep thought but then the man advanced on Isaac. They exchanged punches and there was no way the guy was human. He didn’t smell like any shifter Isaac had come across before. Hell, he didn’t smell of anything. He was the absence of smell and that was more concerning than if he’d been a wendigo. 

In the corner of his eye Isaac could see Stiles pulling Scott off of some sort of altar and dragging their friend to safety. Isaac had played his role of distraction to perfection, drawing the unhinged sorcerer/doctor/lunatic away from the rescue. 

“Oomph,” Isaac gurgled as Fenris drove a glaive into his stomach. At least Isaac thought it was a glaive. 

Chris Argent had given him a whirlwind education in weaponry while in France and that’s what the hunter had called the 18-inch blade affixed to the six-foot pole. This one even had the small hook on the reverse side traditionally used to knock and catch riders astride their horses. Isaac supposed it really didn’t matter if he was pinned to the ground like a butterfly to a board by a glaive or something else.

While providing the perfect distraction Isaac had been distracted and now he would most likely pay the ultimate price. His life definitely sucked. At least Scott and Stiles had gotten away.

Someone skidded into view behind Fenris, whacking the whack-job over the head with a stick. The doctor shrugged the blow off but he did drop his end of the glaive as he spun to face the new attack from…

Stiles?

Isaac gurgled blood when he tried to shout his dismay. That idiot human was going to get himself killed. 

“There can be only one!” Stiles taunted as he held up the stick like a sword. 

Great, the delusional human was channeling Highlander. Isaac would’ve face palmed except he was too busy trying to draw the glaive out of his body, both hands fisted around the pole and pulling with all of his might, while doing his utmost to keep his insides on the inside.

Stiles jerked in a full body spasm before he whispered something softly. 

Something began to move in the corner where Stiles had dragged Scott off to safety. Fenris abandoned Stiles and headed into the corner.

Isaac squawked his outrage with a moan. “Save…Scott,” he spewed blood with his most desperate wish.

“Hang on, buddy,” Stiles, as usual, ignored Isaac’s wishes. He bent over and grabbed the glaive, tugging it out with a wince. Isaac didn’t know what Stiles was wincing about, his intestines weren’t trying to emerge from the gaping wound left behind with the weapon’s exit.

“Isaac, listen to me. You have to stab him through the heart. I’m not convinced he has one, but that’s the kill shot,” Stiles muttered. The human was spreading something on the tip of the glaive. It looked and smelled like blood but there was an odd chemical-like tang to it.

“Even if I wanted to, it’s going to take me a while to heal up. What the fuck are you doing, Stiles?” Isaac demanded as he held a hand over his stomach the other hand scrabbling for purchase on the ground. “You were supposed to get Scott out.”

“Scott’s safe for the time being. Now I’m about out of time here. Please forgive me for this. Derek once said it kick started the healing process. I sure hope to hell he’s right or we’re all dead,” Stiles hissed. 

Isaac shook his head. He was having trouble following his explanation and that lasted right up until Stiles stomped with all of his weight on Isaac’s hand. 

The fine bones throughout that appendage snapped and crackled. “Argh! Whose side are you on?” Isaac gasped.

Stiles had the nerve to lean over and pat Isaac on the cheek. “I’m on yours. Remember, right through the heart.” 

Fenris was cursing in the corner, sounding beyond frustrated, and Isaac knew exactly how the monster felt in that moment. Isaac would love to wring his hands around Stiles’s scrawny neck and squeeze. He’d get right on that just as soon as he could stand up and move around without leaking body parts.

Huh. The little shit seemed to be right. The hole in Isaac’s stomach was knitting up and he could already squeeze his injured hand into a fist. A fist he’d like to punch right into…

“Stiles, look out!” Isaac forgot his revenge plot and shouted a warning as Fenris charged the human. 

Stiles seemed to be out of tricks, and strength, as he crashed to one knee, head bent. 

Fenris planted his feet in front of Stiles, wrapping a hand in the human’s hair, yanking his head back. “You kneel before me?” The crazed doctor questioned. The tone was bland but even from Isaac’s vantage point he could see the unholy gleam in his eyes.

“Nope. Definitely not. Just taking a little break,” Stiles mumbled.

The insane doctor backhanded Stiles and even the tight grip he had in the brown hair didn’t prevent the human from toppling over.

This time Fenris wrapped his hands around Stiles’s neck and dragged him from the ground. “I’m going to enjoy destroying you. Then I will finish the sacrifice.”

Isaac was now sitting up, trying to catch Stiles’s eye. The human finally looked over Fenris’s shoulder and he made eye contact with Isaac briefly, bloodied teeth showing in a grimace, before Stiles looked at the glaive.

Right. Isaac was supposed to spear Fenris through his non-existent, black heart. He pushed himself to his feet, matching Stiles’s grimace. Fenris sensed the motion and began to turn around.

“I have to ask,” Stiles wheezed. “Do they teach poor oral hygiene in villain’s school?”

Fenris became enraged, ignoring Isaac as he punched Stiles in the side of the head. There was no way Stiles retained consciousness after that blow. Hell, Isaac didn’t even know if Stiles was still alive.

Reaching over, Isaac slowly hefted the glaive, and readied himself. In a show of strength worthy of any shifter, Fenris hefted Stiles overhead, one hand bunched behind the slender neck, the other hand splayed supporting his ass. Stiles was arched backwards, arms and legs dangling limply. Isaac couldn’t tell if he was breathing.

Whirling around, Fenris glared at Isaac. He opened his mouth, maybe to hurl insults or maybe to make threats, but Isaac realized he would never have another chance like this. Stealing himself, Isaac jabbed the glaive forward, pushing the blade into the monster’s chest. 

Isaac was never sure of the exact events but something, possibly Fenris, exploded. The blast pushed Isaac off of his feet and threw him into the wall behind him.

“Hey, Isaac, can you hear me?” a deep voice asked, shaking his shoulder.

Isaac knew that voice. Chris Argent. 

It was a struggle but Isaac lifted his eyes. Something had happened. Something big. “Scott?”

“He seems to be coming around. Deaton is with him,” Chris explained. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got launched through the air and hit a concrete wall,” Isaac mumbled, touching the back of his head. Something sticky coated his fingers. Gross.

Another voice, this one female, caught his attention. “No, don’t move him. I need a backboard and neck brace. He might have spinal injuries.”

Melissa McCall. 

Isaac jerked upright. “Stiles!”

Chris put a hand on his shoulder, stilling him. “Easy does it. Just take a moment to catch your breath.”

“Stiles. Is he okay?” Isaac demanded, grabbing Chris’s wrist. He didn’t squeeze but his grip wasn’t exactly gentle.

“He’s unconscious but he’s breathing on his own,” Chris explained as he disengaged Isaac’s fingers from around his wrist. “Feel up to telling me what happened here?”

“Fenris was going to sacrifice Scott, some bullshit about needing the power of a true alpha. Stiles coated the glaive with something and told me to stab Fenris in the heart,” Isaac left out many details but that’s what it essentially boiled down to.

The hunter looked over his shoulder, frowning. Isaac tried to peer around him but Chris blocked his angle. “Yeah, okay. You did good work here, Isaac,” Chris praised him.

Isaac wasn’t stupid, he knew he would always be susceptible to pleasing a father figure, but in this instance he didn’t care. He melted beneath Chris’s fond regard. Coming back to Beacon Hills where so many awful things had happened to him in the past was hard but being around Chris made it easier to bear.

As powerful as his feelings were for Chris, Isaac at least knew they weren’t sexual. Unlike his feelings for someone else.

A feeling of surprised horror swept over Isaac; he was sexually interested in a stupid human who used words like weapons and took too many chances with his life. Up until earlier that day Isaac had considered him an enemy, or at least a hostile ally.

The question: What would Isaac do about it?

-0-

It was Scott who had persuaded Isaac to go to the hospital and check on Stiles. Despite his True Alpha status Scott’s mother had put him under ‘house arrest’ in order to let him build up his strength and although she and the sheriff assured Scott his friend was getting better, Scott demanded independent validation.

Isaac had rolled his eyes but agreed to check on the human. That was maybe down to Isaac’s need to see the guy with his own eyes and assure himself Stiles was on the mend.

When he got to the hospital he went right up to the third floor and headed for the wing he needed. He’d spent more time here then he liked to remember from when he’d recuperated from the electrical burn that had left him in a coma back during the whole Oni and Nogitsune saga. He paused outside of Stiles’s private room—apparently Melissa had pulled some strings because Isaac was pretty sure the Stilinskis weren’t swimming in money—as he heard another voice.

“You take too many chances,” a woman stated. She sounded young, but not too young. Around his own age maybe. 

“Malia, honest, I’m feeling better. They’ve scheduled another scan for this afternoon and if everything looks okay, they’ll be kicking me out of here tomorrow. Quit worrying,” Stiles’s gravelly voice said.

“I know, I know. But you’re my favorite ex! And you keep almost dying,” the petulant female voice chastised.

Malia Tate. Werecoyote. Scott said she lacked a filter but she had a good heart. Scott hadn’t mentioned she had dated Stiles. But then again, why would he? Then again, why should Isaac care?

“I will always love you, Malia, but you’re happier with what’s his name,” Stiles shot back.

“You know damn well what his name is,” Malia returned fire.

“Yeah, I do. But it’s fun riling you up,” Stiles teased. 

Malia ignored his words and instead asked, “When are you going to find someone? I know you’re lonely.” 

In his mind Isaac could picture Stiles shrugging. The other guy cleared his throat. “I, uh, don’t know what I’m looking for. Yet.”

“Do you still want to make it with a guy?” The werecoyote asked; there was that infamous lack of filter. Isaac grinned at the reveal.

“For fuck’s sake, Malia. Give me a break,” Stiles huffed.

“You haven’t answered my question,” Malia pointed out.

Isaac grinned. It was fun listening to someone go toe-to-toe with Stiles.

“You don’t worry about my love life and I’ll butt out of yours. Now you’d better scoot before Liam’s dad kicks you out. You know he said you’ve been banned from visiting the hospital,” Stiles reasoned with the werecoyote.

“Just a minute. Some one is lurking outside of the door,” she announced.

Isaac, busted, knocked on the door before opening it enough to stick his head inside. “Are you up for a brief visit? I told Scott I’d check on you.” He wished he could’ve eavesdropped more on Stiles’s love life because it had been educational.

“Come on in, Isaac,” Stiles invited, sounding relieved.

“This is Isaac?” Malia demanded, hands on her hips. She was tall for a woman but Isaac still towered over her by a good six inches. That didn’t make her back down at all.

“Yes, this is Isaac. We’ve told you about him and he’s pack. Original pack. So play nice,” Stiles said.

Isaac looked at the bed, happy to find Stiles leaning against pillows, the head of the bed up, eyes sparkling with humor. 

The human was still very pale and his bruises had bruises but he was definitely awake and on the mend. He was also very appealing with his brown hair mussed and the way his hospital gown gapped, exposing creamy skin dotted with beauty marks.

Leaning into his space, Malia inhaled sharply. Her nose crinkled and she glared at Isaac, then she looked back at Stiles.

“I’m going to leave but I want you to know I find it disturbing that you’re sexually attracted to him based on what I’ve heard about your history,” Malia declared to no one in particular.

Stiles slunk down on the bed, burying his face in his hands. “Malia,” he actually whined, drawing out the syllables of her name. “How many times do I have to tell you not to announce when I’m attracted to someone?”

Malia stepped over to the bed and pressed her lips to Stiles’s cheek. “I know that, Stiles. I wasn’t talking about you,” she stated in a no-nonsense tone. “Now get well soon.” Stiles gaped at her and then at Isaac.

The werecoyote growled at Isaac, her eyes flashing blue, before she left the room.

Isaac would’ve happily sunk into the tile flooring to avoid embarrassment but sadly that wasn’t one of his shifter gifts. 

“I’m uh, sorry about Malia. She always speaks her mind,” Stiles shared.

Isaac appreciated that Stiles didn’t comment on Malia’s statement about Isaac being attracted to Stiles; that meant Isaac could broach the subject himself.

“So I know you’ve had relationships with women before but how about men?” Isaac asked, plunging right in. It would be interesting to see if Stiles was as forthright with Isaac as he had been with Malia.

Stiles’s pretty doe eyes widened comically. “Oh my God, you guys are trying to give me a heart attack, aren’t you?” he croaked. A pretty pink blush suffused his cheekbones.

“No, that would be a waste of your body,” Isaac said.

“Do these lines usually work for you?” Stiles asked.

“I usually don’t need to use lines so you tell me—is it working?” Isaac bantered back.

Isaac could smell Stiles’s arousal but the guy had tilted his head and was giving Isaac a considering look. “I’ve never actually been, you know, with a guy,” Stiles shared.

“Is that because you’re not completely sure you’re interested or because the opportunity hasn’t presented itself?” Isaac pursued. It sounded like Stiles had some interest but Isaac wasn’t going to push in where he wasn’t wanted.

“Definitely the latter,” Stiles answered.

The heart monitor gave a squawk of alarm and Isaac and Stiles both startled.

“I’d better leave you alone before I get in trouble. I’m serious though, Stiles. I’d like to introduce you to sex that will rock your world,” Isaac announced before he gave the other man a two fingered salute and left the room. 

He’d had years to polish his skills and working as a bartender, he’d come in contact and seduced many, many people.

Maybe Isaac could bone Stiles and get the other guy out of his system. 

Time would tell.

-0-

Isaac made his move a week later. He was still staying at the McCalls and Stiles was back at his dad’s but their paths inevitably crossed. Each time they saw each other Isaac made sure to whisper a description of what he wanted to do to Stiles’s body.

The other guy inevitably blushed, stammered or glared but the one thing he didn’t do was say no.

“So where are you going?” Scott asked.

“Out,” Isaac answered.

Scott actually scowled; the look on his face was so out of place it made Isaac laugh.

“I’m bored and I wanted to do something but you’re busy and Stiles is busy…if I didn’t know any better I’d think you had plans together,” Scott said.

“What, you don’t think Stiles and I could have plans together?” Isaac asked, crossing his arms. He was interested to see if Scott was still as naïve now as he’d been back in high school.

Scott stood up straight and his metaphorical hackles bristled but the True Alpha kept his wolf locked down. “You’re kidding me, right? You and Stiles…,” Scott stopped himself, relaxing his posture. “It does seem to make a certain sense I guess, you’re both,” Scott paused, searching for the right word.

“Assholes?” Isaac supplied.

“Yes!” Scott exclaimed. “I mean no. You two never used to get along, it’s just a surprise is all.”

“We never got along because we were jockeying for your friendship. I guess we both grew up a little,” Isaac shrugged.

“Isaac, you’ll be careful with him right?” Scott questioned.

“Seriously? You’re giving me the speech? Why don’t you warn Stiles to be careful with my heart?” Isaac responded. Yes, he was defensive. He might want to pop Stiles’s cherry but he was still a bit disgusted at all of the people in the human’s corner when Isaac had no one.

“What? No! I’m talking about physically, not emotionally. He’s had these concussions and he hasn’t felt well for over a month. That’s what I meant,” Scott explained.

Isaac had overhead a few conversations, mainly between Scott’s parents, about how Stiles had been losing weight and lacked energy but that the FBI doctors couldn’t find a cause. The adults were all concerned but as far as Isaac knew, no one else had said anything including Scott.

Rafa McCall returning to town had certainly made an impact on things, Isaac mused. Chris and Rafa had this macho one-upmanship thing going on so although Rafa was staying elsewhere, Chris tried to avoid the house as much as one could when they were staying in said house.

“Relax, Scott. I will make sure I return him in the same condition as I receive him,” Isaac quipped, making a play on the standard return policy most stored had in place.

Scott looked bewildered but he let Isaac leave.

On his way over to the Stilinski’s house, Isaac reviewed his supplies. His bag held a change of clothing, some toiletry items and a little something to help Stiles figure things out.

Stiles skidded out on to the porch before Isaac even had the kickstand down on the Monster. He also had a small bag in his hand.

Isaac lifted his hand in greeting and Stiles blushed. For someone Isaac had spent the majority of his teen years hating, he had to admit the guy was absolutely adorable. 

Without any words passing between the two men, Stiles stowed his stuff in the tail bag and Isaac handed him his helmet.

Once Stiles had swung on to the back of the Monster, Isaac eased them out onto the road and headed for the highway. He reveled in the press of Stiles’s body against his back and the way the human clung to him.

Isaac had found one of those motels that consisted of separate cottages located up the coast. It would take a couple of hours to reach it but they had a reservation and in the mean time Isaac could just enjoy the ride…and anticipation.

Stiles might not like to bottom, not all guys did, but Isaac looked forward to finding that information out. Isaac himself much preferred to top but he at least was willing to be versatile, depending on the other person.

He was almost sad when they reached their destination but Isaac, playing the role of gallant, was sure to put a hand under Stiles’s elbow when the guy wobbled after getting off of the Monster. “Are you okay?” Isaac remembered all of the concern about Stiles’s health. 

Stiles dismissed the concern with a self-conscious shrug as he handed his helmet back to Isaac and took his bag in exchange. “I guess I’m not used to riding for any length of time.” That made sense although as a werewolf, Isaac didn’t suffer from being on the road for long periods of time.

Isaac wanted to say something cheesy like _they’d be doing a different type of riding in a while_ or _just wait until you straddle a different kind of monster between your legs_ but he bit his tongue. “Let me get us registered and then we’ll check out our cabin.”

Without hesitation, Stiles fell into step next to Isaac and they made their way toward the main building. The registration process was a blur and Isaac didn’t like the way the blond woman flirted with Stiles but she tried to flirt with Isaac, too, so that made her seem less threatening.

Threatening? Yes, Isaac conceded—he didn’t want a rival for Stiles’s affections. This might be a sex only arrangement but Isaac wanted all of Stiles’s attention while he conducted his experiments.

The two men dropped their bags and admired their lodgings but Stiles’s focus kept wandering back toward the California King platform bed dominating the room replete with overhead mirror. The steps up to the platform were at the foot of the bed, which meant if Isaac wanted to take Stiles from behind, he could stand at the side of the bed and Stiles’s ass would be at the right height.

Whoa, Isaac found he was getting ahead of himself. Stiles might not like anal sex and even if he did, they might not get to it this trip. Isaac reminded himself to be patient.

“I did a lot of reading and I think I’m ready. The enema was easier than I thought it would be at least so I’m ready to go. Can we start?” Stiles proposed. 

It didn’t surprise Isaac that Stiles had done research. At least Isaac wasn’t the only impatient person here.

“That’s fine with me. I suggest you get comfortable,” Isaac paused as Stiles had already kicked his shoes off and was in the midst of pulling his shirt overhead.

Stiles flashed a bright smile once his shirt hit the floor. “Comfortable. Yeah. I can do comfortable. Are you getting comfortable too?”

Isaac recognized the babble of nerves coming from Stiles and it actually relaxed him. Here, on this playing field, Isaac had the expertise. He’d never had anyone complain about his sexual prowess before and he was committed to making this a memorable experience for Stiles whether or not they ever repeated it.

Stripping down to his navy boxer-briefs, Isaac stretched his arms overhead, drawing Stiles’s attention to him. The other guy had his jeans unbuttoned but that’s as far as he’d gotten, his mouth hanging open as he stared up and down Isaac’s body.

“Wow,” Stiles breathed, his attention raking over Isaac’s physique one more time. The shifter metabolism meant Isaac didn’t have to watch what he ate but he did work out in order to keep his muscled build, mainly because he enjoyed the appreciative looks from his bed partners. He might not be super smart, or sweet, but Isaac knew he was a good-looking guy.

“Let me get a few things. I’ll be right back,” Isaac said, refocusing on the job at hand.

Isaac rifled through his bag and found the lube, dildo and condom. He also grabbed a bottled water because sex could be intense and make a body thirsty.

When he turned back, Isaac found himself speechless. Stiles was clad in nothing except a jockstrap and that jockstrap framed his ass beautifully. The other man turned around and Isaac enjoyed the view from the front as much as from the back, Stiles’s larger than average cock filling up the scanty pouch of material until it looked like it would burst from its light blue confines. 

“I’m sure you’ve done plenty of research,” Isaac began but he paused as Stiles disarmed him with one of those pretty blushes, this one showing up not only in his cheeks but also down the muscled pecs of his chest and onto the flat plain of his abs. 

Mouth watering.

Isaac cleared his throat and began again, “The important thing to remember is not every guy likes anal play. It’s okay if you don’t like it, just tell me to stop. Do you have any questions?”

“How do we do this? I mean how should I lay? Or do I stand?” Stiles asked.

“How about I sit up against the headboard and you lay across my lap?” Isaac suggested and Stiles was already scrambling to the head of the bed to pile up pillows.

Nothing like a willing bed partner to get the motor running, Isaac thought. He set the bottled water down on a coaster sitting on the bedside table. The pump bottle of lube joined the water.

Isaac settled on the bed, making sure he was leaning comfortably against the pillows. Stiles kneeled next to him, his attention glued to the dildo in Isaac’s hand.

Holding up the dildo, Isaac explained, “If you haven’t seen this during your research, it’s a prostate massager. I’m going to put a condom on it so we don’t have to worry about cleaning it afterward. If you’re going to do this with someone else, make sure they use a condom too,” Isaac gritted out. He didn’t like the idea of Stiles with someone else but he wanted to make sure the guy had all of the facts.

Having unwrapped untold numbers of condoms in his misspent youth, Isaac quickly had the dildo covered in latex. He set it down on the bedspread; he’d get around to that once Stiles was ready. Leaning over, Isaac pumped lube into his palm. 

Isaac looked into Stiles’s face and observed the blown pupils and hectic color in his face; Stiles was on board so far. The way Stiles sat back on his heels, hands spread against his thighs, staring up at Isaac…the guy might not be experienced but he seemed to be a natural.

Patting his thigh, Isaac invited, “Stretch out here. You can pillow your head on your arms or if you want an actual pillow let me know.”

Stiles shuffled forward on his knees until he was perpendicular to Isaac and he was facing Isaac’s lap. With a slight noise, it could’ve been a groan, Stiles put his hands on the other side of Isaac’s lap, forming a bridge.

Isaac gently touched Stiles’s back, smoothing the tension he found between the other guy’s shoulder blades. Stiles lowered his weight until he was stretched over Isaac, his beautiful ass elevated by Isaac’s muscular things.

Stiles’s cock rubbed over Isaac’s leg. Isaac scooted down a few inches, adjusting a pillow behind his low back, so he could lift Stiles higher on to his lap until their cocks rubbed together.

If Stiles was going to grind then Isaac planned to reap the rewards directly. Isaac caught movement above them and lifted his head; the mirror over the bed displayed a decadent picture of two almost naked men, fit and attractive, one writhing over the other. They’d make some pretty porn together that was for damn sure.

Ignoring the image above him, Isaac concentrated on the live body spread before him. “I’ve warmed the lube in my hand and I’m going to work a finger full into you. I want to make sure you’re as loose as possible so the dildo doesn’t hurt you. Okay?” Isaac questioned.

“Uh huh,” Stiles sighed. His face was buried in his bent arms but Isaac definitely didn’t miss the way Stiles rocked his hips impatiently.

True to his word, Isaac slid the tip of his index finger against the starburst muscle guarding Stiles’s asshole. The other guy wiggled a little, spreading his legs apart, giving wordless consent.

Isaac stroked the muscle a few times before he pressed against it. “If you push out a little it will ease the passage,” Isaac coaxed.

Stiles, ever a proficient student, followed Isaac’s directions to the letter. Isaac’s finger sunk in to the first knuckle.

“How does that feel?” Isaac asked.

“Kind of weird?” Stiles answered although the inflection went up at the end of the sentence.

Weird wasn’t bad.

Isaac stroked into the tight passage a few times before he withdrew his finger.

“What are you doing?” Stiles queried, peaking out from beneath an arm.

“Getting a little more lube,” Isaac answered. This time he followed the index finger up with the addition of his middle finger, lightly pressing, scissoring, along the passage. So far he wasn’t moving too deeply, avoiding the prostate, letting Stiles get used to the intrusion.

Stiles flexed his ass, sucking Isaac’s fingers deeper. Isaac withdrew, slapping Stiles’s ass. “Hey, I’m setting the pace here.”

Stiles grumbled but Isaac took it as a good sign. So far Stiles wasn’t panicking and he still seemed impatient to experience anal stimulation.

Pumping more lube into his palm, Isaac coated the dildo, his attention straying to the perfect butt cheeks peaking around the strips of silky light blue material. Some white guys had flat asses but that wasn’t the case with Stiles; maybe it was all of the running and drills they’d done in Lacrosse but Stiles’s ass was perky, bordering on a bubble, which was pretty amazing considering how skinny the rest of his body appeared.

Isaac tucked his concern over the visible ribs for later, intent on discovering if Stiles would ever be interested in bottoming. 

“You’ll feel a little pressure again, just press outward like you did before,” Isaac said as he set the tip of the dildo against Stiles’s asshole and pressed firmly.

The dildo slid seamlessly into Stiles’s depths.

Stiles bucked his hips, a groan emerging from beneath his arms.

“You can be as noisy as you want, Stiles. That’s why I booked us a cabin,” Isaac reassured him.

Isaac pulled the dildo out a little before rocking it forward. He gave it a little twist as he pushed it more deeply and—

Stiles’s hips heaved so hard, the bed bounced.

“That would be your prostate,” Isaac announced.

Shifting his body, grinding his cock against Isaac’s, Stiles sighed. “That was incredible. More please?”

Isaac applied himself to the task, changing the angle, slowing down and speeding up the rocking, and twisting the dildo so the grooves on it made contact with the gland lighting up Stiles’s body.

Stiles didn’t disappoint. He heaved and rutted and the sounds spilling from his lips…Isaac was pretty sure he could come from the sounds alone.

He wasn’t ready for that yet and he didn’t want Stiles getting off yet either. Reaching between Stiles’s spread legs, Isaac curled his free hand around the silky bulge of swollen cock and balls. He squeezed, first gently and then with a firm grasp.

“Isaac!” Stiles wailed.

Instead of inhibiting Stile’s orgasm, the rough touch did the opposite and soon milky seed was dampening the material Isaac was cupping.

Isaac pulled the dildo out but pushed down on Stiles’s ass, mashing his weight down against Isaac’s full cock.

Stiles moaned at the contact but he seemed to grasp the situation and rolled his hips, forward and backward, rocking, until Isaac had enough friction.

Little spots danced in front of Isaac’s eyes. 

His hands gently massaged the muscles beneath them, kneading and grasping, enjoying the silky texture of skin.

“What do you think?” Isaac finally prompted Stiles.

“I think that was amazing,” Stiles slurred out. “What else can we do?”

“I want you to ride my cock while I play with your cock and balls,” Isaac announced. “I’d like to check out your nipple sensitivity, too.”

The noise Stiles made in the back of his throat helped Isaac’s refractory period immensely.

-0-

Isaac returned to the cabin, coffee and food from a diner down the road in hand, to find Stiles had moved but not by much.

When Isaac had slipped out in search of sustenance, Stiles had been on his side. It had made spooning very easy but when the human’s stomach started grumbling, Isaac decided to play the part of hunter-gatherer. After the wonderful night Stiles had given him, it was the least he could do.

Stiles’s delightfully rounded ass was peaking from beneath a sheet. Isaac lightly cracked the creamy skin with his palm.

“Ouch,” Stiles groaned.

“What do you mean ouch?” Isaac volleyed back. He didn’t remember Stiles being such a lazy ass; the other guy had played the part of Energizer Bunny, always ready for adventure instead of behaving like a sloth.

“I think you broke me,” Stiles pulled his head out from beneath the pillow and looked over his shoulder at Isaac. The human’s face was tensed as though in pain.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Isaac perched on the edge of the bed. He put his hand on Stiles’s lower back and sure enough, he pulled pain.

“Maybe I applied myself a little too enthusiastically to your teachings,” Stiles mumbled but his muscles loosened up.

When Isaac was no longer feeling the sting of acute pain, he coaxed Stiles to a sitting position. “I brought back some breakfast. Are you hungry?”

Stiles’s stomach gave a loud gurgle. The other guy laughed. “Pretty much always am,” he confirmed.

Isaac observed the visible ribs and hipbones. For someone who allegedly had an excellent appetite, the human appeared undernourished. “Well if that’s the case, why am I able to count your ribs?” Isaac said it in a teasing manner.

Stiles turned a stricken face up at Isaac before he started looking around the room. “Could you please hand me my clothing? On second thought, never mind. I think I’d like a shower.”

Pulling the sheet from the bed, Stiles wrapped it toga-style around his body. He shifted to his feet and scrambled about, gathering clothing and his bag. 

“What about breakfast?” Isaac asked.

“I’m going to shower first. Go ahead and eat without me,” the other guy replied before closing the bathroom door with a little more force than was probably necessary. The lock engaged promptly.

Isaac felt bad for ruining the mood. He was just trying to understand what was going on.

Ten minutes later Stiles emerged from the bathroom, cheeks rosy with color. He kept his eyes downcast and seemed unusually subdued.

Standing by the table, Isaac fiddled with the bag, removing the containers filled with breakfast foods. “I pretty much got a little of everything. What are you in the mood for?” he asked, trying to get the morning back on track.

“I’ll have whatever you don’t want,” Stiles waved away the question. “I would kill for some coffee though.”

“No need for murder this morning,” Isaac joked. “Here you go.”

Stiles tentatively sat down at the table, shifting his weight around as though trying to find a comfortable spot. 

“Hey, did I hurt you?” Isaac asked, guilt setting in. 

Blushing again, Stiles looked at Isaac in the face but then his attention slid away. “I’m a little sore. It’ll pass. I took some pain reliever.”

Isaac split the food evenly so they both had some scrambled eggs, French toast, bacon and hash browns. Stiles accepted the container Isaac handed him, thanking him sweetly, and then proceeded to hoover up the food.

It was an impressive display and Isaac was left wondering yet again why Stiles was so thin. This time he wisely kept his thoughts to himself. Isaac had enjoyed himself immensely last night and he was very much interested in a repeat performance.

So much for getting Stiles out of his system.

Stiles raised his arms above his head and gave a full-bodied yawn. “What time do we need to check out?” the human asked once his jaw was finished cracking.

“Check out is 11am,” Isaac answered. He took a moment to look closely at Stiles. The other man was exceedingly pale and the dark splotches beneath his eyes spoke of exhaustion.

Scott’s reminder to treat Stiles gently reverberated through Isaac’s head. He hadn’t treated the other guy harshly but they had been awake more than they had slept last night. Not exactly behavior conducive to mending, Isaac acknowledged.

“Do you want to stretch back out on the bed for a while?” Isaac suggested.

Stiles’s snub nose crinkled up. “Why don’t we watch something on the couch?” He pulled the bulky hoodie up higher on his neck and yanked the sleeves down so they covered past his wrists. 

Now that he was fully clothed, Stiles seemed to be body conscious. Isaac kicked himself for saying anything about counting Stiles’s ribs.

“Sounds good. Why don’t you pick something for us to see? The place is supposed to have Netflix and other movie channels,” Isaac shared, remembering the information he’d read on the motel’s website.

Stiles settled on an adventure. It was very James Bond-esque but neither man had seen it yet and it was hard to go wrong with pretty people and explosions.

The movie held Isaac’s attention but about halfway through he noticed Stiles’s breathing had evened out. So as not to disturb the other man, Isaac very gently tilted Stiles until he leaned against Isaac’s side. Wrapping an arm around him to anchor him in place, Isaac fished his cell phone out of his pocket, toying with some ideas.

Stiles needed his rest and Isaac actually began to worry that the other guy would fall off the back of the Monster if they made the return trip today. Isaac thought about seeing if they could stay another night but he was pretty certain Stiles would rest better in his own home. That left finding someone to drive up and get Stiles.

Scott might do it. His friend knew the two men were together and he was itching to get out of house arrest. Isaac texted his request and waited for Scott’s response.

Isaac’s phone began to trill with an incoming call. Scott’s incoming call.

“Hey, Scott,” Isaac greeted. He was speaking in a quiet voice but it wasn’t suspiciously quiet. Stiles continued to sleep, his soft locks brushing Isaac’s cheek.

“What happened? Is Stiles okay?” Scott yelped.

“He’s fine. At least I think he’s fine. He’s just tired. I thought maybe I could talk you into driving up here and giving him a ride back,” Isaac concluded.

“Why don’t you want to take your bike?” Scott asked. There was definitely suspicion present in his tone.

“A certain someone needs his sleep. I just thought a car would be easier on him,” Isaac rationalized.

“Oh my God, Isaac. He can’t sit on the bike can he? I didn’t ask for this level of detail about your sex life!” Scott squawked. 

“I didn’t say anything about our sex life, you’re the one jumping to conclusions. Now are you interested in coming up here or not?” Isaac asked. 

Scott didn’t fill the void of silence. As it dragged on, Isaac cleared his throat gently. “If you drive up here in a car, I’ll let you drive the Monster back home. Deal?” Isaac offered.

“Yes, definitely a deal. Text me the address. I can be on the road in ten minutes. I know Mom won’t give me grief since this is for Stiles,” Scott replied.

Isaac made a face; there it was again, everyone’s concern for the poor little human, Stiles. Then again Isaac himself had some level of concern so he kept silent.

“Thanks, buddy. I’ll text you the info right now. See you in about two hours,” Isaac said his goodbye, ending the call. His fingers nimbly texted Scott the address of the motel.

Almost ten minutes to the second later, Scott texted back: _Heading out now._

-0-

Isaac heard the rumble of the blue Jeep’s engine from a mile away. It was amazing to him it was still running. It was even more amazing Stiles had given it to Scott to drive. When they’d been in high school, that Jeep had been the most important thing to Stiles, excluding his family.

Rousing the dozing man leaning against him, Isaac stood up from the picnic table and waved as Scott pulled into the compound.

Rising a bit unsteadily to his feet, Stiles joined Isaac as Scott braked in front of them. The other shifter emerged from the Jeep, a grin on his face. The grin lessened as his attention focuses on Stiles but nevertheless Scott still seemed happy to see them. “Valet service. I’ll accept my tip via riding the Ducati.”

Scott and Stiles exchanged hugs replete with banging each other on the back although Isaac could tell Scott took some power out of his. “I thought you were still under house arrest?” Stiles commented.

“I managed to slip by the guards but please don’t report me,” Scott joked. He turned to Isaac and Isaac clearly read a message in the True Alpha’s eyes—they’d be talking later. What Scott actually said was, “Now tell me about the Ducati. I’m itching to get my hands on her.”

Isaac dutifully took Scott over to the Monster, showing him the features he would need to navigate safely home. Stiles followed behind, stalling any private conversation—most likely a dressing down—in the mean time.

“All right. Here are the keys. I expect you to take care of the Jeep,” Scott counseled.

Isaac took the keys, expecting Stiles to jockey for them, but the other guy just crossed his arms and quirked an eyebrow. “Of course. Same with the Monster. See you back in Beacon Hills,” was the best response Isaac could come up with.

After stowing their bags in the back seat, Stiles settled in the passenger seat. Isaac glanced over to make sure Stiles wasn’t suddenly having a change of heart about driving but he paused when he noticed Stiles rubbing a fist over his chest, eyes scanning the horizon but seemingly lost in thought. 

“Hey, you okay?” Isaac asked.

Stiles dropped his fist into his lap, his attention snapping to Isaac. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s head back to Beacon Hills, see if we can beat Scott.” His tone was jovial but Isaac could tell something was bothering the human. In fact Isaac could tell that even without his supernaturally enhanced senses although his nose did confirm it.

“Yeah, okay. I don’t think that will be the case,” Isaac said, smirking as he thought about his Ducati.

Stiles chuckled. “Scott drives like a grandma. I think the race to the finish line will be closer than you’d guess.”

“Do you want the radio on?” Isaac deferred to the former owner of the Jeep.

“Nah, it’s a crap system. Why don’t you tell me about your grand adventures since leaving Beacon Hills? Scott said you ended up in South Cal,” Stiles said, settling into some small talk. 

That was one thing you didn’t have to worry about on the Monster and Isaac suddenly missed his ride. Making small talk with a one-night stand could be painful. Although Isaac had already broken two of his rules—they’d slept together and then had breakfast. Isaac supposed their shared history made the whole one-night stand situation impossible.

“Chris took me to France with him after,” Isaac paused, trying to figure out how to mention Allison’s death and decided there was no smooth way to address and settled for not finishing his thought. “Anyway, things really clicked for me over there.”

“Let me guess, they really appreciated your use of scarves in your wardrobe,” Stiles cracked but for once Isaac didn’t detect hostility in the comment.

Isaac dialed back his instinctive defensive bristling and commented in kind, “Oui, the females in particular said I possessed a certain savoir faire.”

“I bet they did. So what made you decide to come back to the states?” Stiles probed. Isaac could feel the other man’s attention on him but he kept his face pointing forward, carefully watching the jackasses weaving in and out of traffic.

That was a long story involving a brother and sister, supposedly ex hunters, who had taken a shine to Isaac. Isaac was never certain if they were toying with his affections, really had feelings for him, or were setting him up in some deranged hunter’s game. He’d left France behind, happy to never know what Julien and Camille Bernard had planned for him long term. The twins had almost ruined him for sex although Isaac was always happy to give others a chance.

“I think I needed a change of scenery,” Isaac went with instead.

Stiles frowned as though unsatisfied with Isaac’s answer but he didn’t call Isaac on it. Instead the other guy asked, “So what have you been doing to keep yourself out of trouble?”

“Whoa, wait a minute, is this some sort of FBI interview?” Isaac teased. He wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of so much attention. Well, at least not intellectual attention.

Out of the corner of his eye, Isaac could see that pretty blush working its way over Stiles’s cheekbones. “Sorry. Some of it’s occupational hazard but to be honest, I’m just plain curious. I’m sure this sounds weird but it’s kind of nice seeing a familiar face again.”

Isaac didn’t think Stiles was referring to the hot sex. He doubted it had to do with saving Scott’s ass; that had been more of an adventure than any of them had wanted and Stiles had ended up concussed on top of it. 

Hanging out on the road, making small talk, was Stiles’s idea of a good time? That seemed…Isaac was going to go with boring but he changed his mind to nice. He’d always wanted in on the inner circle, any inner circle, and it had driven him crazy back in high school that he couldn’t crack the super secret code of popularity.

It was a relief to have left those crazy days behind him. 

Returning his thoughts to their conversation, trying to come up with some sort of spin that would make bartending sound fascinating—nothing could really compete with Mr. FBI sitting next to him—and failing spectacularly, Isaac glanced over at his passenger.

Stiles was leaning against the passenger window, eyes closed, fast asleep. At least the steady inhale and exhale indicated sleep.

Isaac thought Stiles looked sick. Fragile. Taking him to a motel, keeping him up practically all night…Isaac wasn’t even going to dwell on the sex. Isaac felt he pretty much had whatever Scott said coming to him.

Although to be honest, the sex had been spectacular, considering Stiles’s virgin status. They hadn’t talked about a repeat but Isaac was definitely open to it.

-0-

Isaac coasted to a stop next to the curb in front of the McCalls’ house. The Monster roared as Scott took the corner a little too fast. Isaac would’ve made an issue out of it but Stiles had been right for the most part, Scott didn’t drive aggressively, quite the opposite in fact, since Isaac had been able to drop Stiles off at his house and make it back here before Scott.

Scott’s face split into a huge smile as he dismounted. “Dude, awesome ride!”

“Glad you liked it. Now can we trade keys again?” Isaac asked, eager to get his hands on his own keys.

Scott obliged although he followed up the toss of the keys with the helmet being shoved into his solar plexus. Werewolf status notwithstanding that kind of blow hurt.

Once Isaac recovered his breath he returned Scott’s glare. “Not cool, dude.”

“You know what’s not cool, Isaac? Whatever the hell you did to Stiles that left him looking so…used up,” Scott hurled back. His arms were crossed as he stared up at Isaac.

Isaac’s shoulders slumped. “I agree. It was ill timed at the very least although I got the sense Stiles would’ve had a lot to say if I’d called it off. He’s really self-conscious about having lost weight. What the hell is going on with him anyway?”

Scott’s outraged bearing melted away, replaced by concern. “The doctors don’t know. Come on, let’s take this out of the street before someone calls the police.”

Allowing himself to be shepherded into the house, Isaac sat his bag down and collapsed on to the couch. 

Before he could say anything, Scott was interrogating him; maybe Stiles had been given him pointers. “Now tell me what happened,” he invited.

Isaac wet his lips, nervous. “Well, I got us a cabin so we could, uh, that is Stiles has never been with a—”

Scott yelped loudly, interrupting him. “Not that! I don’t want details on that. Ever. No, I meant what you said about Stiles being self conscious about his weight loss.”

Thinking back to that morning, Isaac said, “I can count his ribs. I mean don’t get me wrong, the guy is still in shape but looking a little under weight,” Isaac paused, thinking the Bernard twins had the same malnourished body type. Apparently it was something he was attracted to and he’d just now realized it. Damn it, he had a physical type. Stiles with his beauty marks on creamy skin and big doe eyes and smaller than Isaac…Scott’s best friend was his type.

Fingers snapped in his face. “Earth to Isaac!”

Chagrined, Isaac could feel the flush of color sweeping his face. He was sure it didn’t look half as appealing as the blush on Stiles’s—

“Isaac! For Pete’s sake, what the hell did Stiles say?!” Scott snapped.

Refocusing his attention, Isaac answered, “This morning I asked him if he’s always hungry, why was I able to count his ribs. He shut down fast, locked himself in the bathroom and when he came out, his clothing layers had layers. He was pretty subdued, too. After that I kept my mouth shut.”

“So why did you ask me to bring the Jeep up? And if it was because he was too sore to ride the Monster, make something up because I don’t want to know that,” Scott growled, playfully. At least Isaac thought it was playful.

Isaac wanted to make a comment about Stiles already having ridden a monster but he knew that wouldn’t go over well with Stiles’s best friend. Stiles, though, he’d probably find it funny, the little shit. 

“No, it wasn’t because he was too sore. He seemed exhausted—he fell asleep while we watched a movie this morning—and I was afraid he’d fall off the Monster,” Isaac shared.

“That’s not good,” Scott commented.

“What’s not good?” Melissa McCall questioned. Isaac hadn’t heard her approach, which was very careless on his part. He knew better than to completely drop his guard although it was likely he’d never find a safer place than that of the True Alpha’s home.

“Isaac said Stiles’s ribs are visible,” Scott said.

Melissa raised an eyebrow and glanced at Isaac but didn’t comment.

Scott continued, ignoring the elephant in the room. “He also was so exhausted Isaac was afraid he might fall asleep and fall off the bike which is why he asked me to bring the Jeep up.”

“Your father said the FBI doctors are stumped. It’s not cancer, hyperthyroidism or an infection. I would’ve blamed the concussion but the weight loss started previous to that,” the nurse explained.

Isaac raised his hand, unhappy at the thought crossing his mind. “What about depression?”

Scott’s eyebrows shot high on his forehead. “Stiles? Depression?”

Melissa, tapped her chin thoughtfully. “It’s not out of the realm of possibility although no one has reported any other symptoms that would suggest depression. Let’s continue to keep an eye on him for now.”

Scott’s mom pulled her son into a hug. “House arrest is suspended. Just be careful,” she whispered.

Isaac turned away, the sudden show of affection making him uncomfortable, when Melissa grabbed his arm. “Just a minute, buster. I’m not through with you.”

He found himself enveloped in a hug as well. He had to lean over to accommodate the petite woman as he had a good ten inches on her. 

“Thank you for taking care of everyone. Now don’t forget to take care of yourself, okay?” she whispered.

This feeling of intimacy was overwhelming. The idea of inclusion, caring—family—was everything Isaac had always wanted.

It was also something he feared having and losing again.

Making his excuses, Isaac fled upstairs. 

Within moments, Isaac had his emotions under control.

A smirk spread over his face. He hoped no one would look inside of his bag he had forgotten downstairs or they would be in for an education.

-0-

“Isaac, good, you’re just in time,” Melissa called from the kitchen as Isaac let himself in through the front door.

“Um, in time for what?” Isaac cautiously asked as he cut through the dining room to join her. The kitchen was filled with the most delicious smells imaginable and Isaac’s stomach grumbled loudly.

The dark haired woman shot Isaac a wide smile. “For dinner, of course. Could you please wash up and then put out the paper plates and other plastic utensils?”

“Sure?” Isaac responded, his voice zooming up the scale to end in a question mark. He racked his brain trying to remember if there was something going on tonight. He’d made some sweeps of the preserve to make sure everything was safe and sound and he’d planned on an early night in front of the TV.

“Didn’t Scott tell you? Everyone is coming over for dinner. They wanted to celebrate Scott’s safe return and it’ll give you a chance to meet everyone,” she explained as she pulled what looked like enchiladas out of the oven.

Chicken enchiladas with green chilies, onions, black olives and lots of gooey cheese. He could gush for hours about Melissa’s enchiladas. And her tamales. She also made an excellent pot roast but he could see tonight she was going with a Mexican food theme.

Isaac could rub elbows with Scott’s pack if it meant dining on Melissa’s home cooking. After washing his hand at the sink Isaac pulled the requested items out of the cupboards and set them up on the dining room table for people to help themselves.

“Do I have time to take a quick shower?” Isaac asked, looking down at his casual jeans and top. He wasn’t going to think about it too closely but he wanted to make a good impression on Scott’s friends. Never mind that Scott’s closest friend ought to be in attendance and Isaac definitely wanted to make an impression on him.

“The horde ought to be arriving in thirty or so minutes. Go ahead, I’m just going to throw together some nachos and then we should be set,” Melissa shooed him out of the kitchen.

Isaac didn’t linger in the shower but he made sure he used the cologne he always received compliments on—Armani Code. It was a mix of Bergamot for spice and lemon for sweet and it didn’t bother the sensitive noses of shifters but it certainly got rave reviews from humans. Stiles sure seemed to appreciate it when they’d been cuddled on the bed if the way he’d buried his nose against Isaac’s neck pulse point where the scent had been applied was any indication.

Isaac pulled on a pair of boxer-briefs and quickly yanked a pair of his True Religion Rocco Biker Skinny jeans in the shade called Worn Grey Rebellion. The gray pants paired nicely with a black long sleeved torso hugging t-shirt that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, slim waist and halted above his ass, drawing attention to it. A silky scarf in black and white completed his ensemble; he knew he was begging to be teased with that accessory but he was confident in his masculinity and he could take some ribbing. 

A quick dollop of product massaged into his hair brought out the messy curls and emphasized the shine.

The doorbell rang and Isaac shoved his feet into his black HanWild combat boots. They were lightweight and comfortable but also butch; he’d been told they were the equivalent of women’s fuck-me heels. Although in this case he was hoping they’d turn into fuck-you shoes as he wanted a repeat with Stiles. 

Speaking of which, Isaac grabbed one more thing, shoving it into his tight pocket. There, he was ready for the night.

Hustling down the stairs, Isaac smiled as he saw Scott on door duty. His friend welcomed some teens into the house.

Scott turned as Isaac reached the living room. “Isaac, I want you to meet some people. This is Hayden, Mason, Corey and Liam. Guys, this is one of my best friends, Isaac.”

Isaac halted in his stride, shooting a funny look at Scott. Isaac was one of his best friends? I mean Isaac certainly counted Scott as his closest friend but Scott knew lots of people and had lots of friends. Shrugging it off, Isaac greeted the group, happiness buzzing in the pit of his stomach.

Mason’s eyes bulged out of his sockets as his attention swept over Isaac from head to toe. “Scott, you didn’t tell us that Isaac was so,” the attractive younger man paused, gulped, and gestured, “You know.”

“Attractive? Hot? You’re right, Scott didn’t mention it but Stiles certainly did,” the lone female commented with a smirk. Hayden was pretty but she was a natural beauty with no sign of make-up or complicated hairstyle. She looked like a bit of a tomboy. Isaac liked her on sight.

Isaac met her smirk with his own. So Stiles found him hot? That was the goal.

The shorter male elbowed Mason in the side. “Come on Mason, we’d better get you something cool to drink before you melt down.” He aimed a shy smile at Isaac. “Nice to meet you, Isaac.” Corey dragged his boyfriend away.

The fourth member of the party frowned at Isaac, his arms crossed tightly over his toned chest. “You must be Liam,” Isaac smiled as remembered what Stiles had said about Scott’s first beta.

“Why must I be Liam?” the guy practically snarled.

Hayden rolled her eyes and gave Liam what appeared to be a long-suffering look.

Liam ignored his girlfriend and continued to stare at Isaac.

Isaac’s smile grew wider. “Stiles said you were slow to trust, a bit of a pessimist and also a protective asshole. More like me and Stiles than Pollyanna Scott over here,” he said.

“Stiles said I was like him?” Liam asked, his arms dropping to his side, looking a bit gob smacked. It could’ve been a belligerent question but it came off more like Liam wanted to be like Stiles, that he took Isaac’s words as a compliment. 

“When we were on our way to bust Scott out of Eichen House he mentioned that, yeah,” Isaac explained.

“Wow, that’s…Stiles said I’m as asshole?” the scowl reappeared in full force but Liam’s bright blue eyes twinkled.

“Come on, Liam, we’d better see if Melissa needs help in the kitchen,” Hayden said as she grabbed Liam’s hand and towed him away. “Nice meeting you, Isaac! Talk to you later.”

Scott grinned at Isaac. “You just made his day. Liam really looks up to Stiles although he tries to be cool and not show it so he took that as a real compliment. I think you made a favorable impression on him, too.”

“You mean if Stiles thinks I’m okay then I’m in with Liam?” Isaac probed. 

Something burned in his chest at the younger shifter’s regard for Stiles but Isaac wasn’t sure what it was exactly. Previously he might’ve called it jealousy but now it felt like satisfaction.

Shrugging his shoulders, Scott gave Isaac a concerned look but didn’t say anything else.

Two car doors slammed almost simultaneously out by the curb and Scott loped toward the door. “Speak of the devil.”

Sheriff Stilinski walked in first and gave Scott a hearty back slap. His bright blue eyes searched the living room before settling on Isaac. The older man’s eyes lit up and his face burst into an open, easy smile. “Isaac Lahey. I wondered if I’d see you again. How are you doing, son?”

Isaac might’ve cringed internally at being called son by someone else but the sheriff had always referred to him that way. They had a history going back to when his dad used to dole out his _love taps_ to Isaac and he knew the sheriff had not been a fan of his dad’s. It had always amazed Isaac that Sheriff Stilinski was such a compassionate man and Stiles was, well, Stiles.

Scott was drawing Stiles into a gentle hug as Sheriff Stilinski shook Isaac’s hand. Isaac cleared his throat. “I’m doing much better now that we got Scott back.”

“Thanks for taking care of Stiles at Eichen House,” the older man slapped him on the back. “He definitely needs a keeper these days.”

“Da-ad,” Stiles whined as he approached them but he smiled good-naturedly. 

“If you’ll please excuse me, I believe Melissa needs my help in the kitchen,” the sheriff ambled off.

Scott piped up, “Aren’t you going to scold your dad and tell him to eat only healthy things?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to give him a chance to prove he can make better life choices without my nagging.”

Isaac’s lips pulled into a faint smile as he perused the newcomer. Stiles was dressed in dark wash jeans and a gray Henley, the sleeves pushed back to reveal strong forearms lightly covered with dark hair. The other man was looking healthier with some pink riding his cheekbones and his brown eyes sparkling with good humor.

Scott excused himself to answer the door again and someone Isaac didn’t recognize entered the house. The man carried himself much like Sheriff Stilinski, Chris Argent and even Rafa McCall with a certain military bearing. He was a few inches shorter than Isaac, which made him about two inches taller than Stiles with light brown hair and very pretty green eyes. The guy’s face lit up when he spotted them and he headed right to them.

“Stiles! It’s great to see you up and around,” the man said as he extended his hand.

Instead of shaking the hand held out, Stiles grabbed on to the guy’s forearm, and the green-eyed man did the same to Stiles. “Jordan, how have you been? You been keeping my old man in line at work?”

Scott sidled up to Isaac, ignoring the other two men. “Apparently that’s how law enforcement types shake hands these days. They say it keeps them from spreading germs but I think they just like to be weird.”

Green Eyes stuck his hand out to Isaac who looked at it, unsure of the proper response. “It’s okay, I know how to shake hands like a regular person, too. I’m Jordan Parrish.”

Isaac gave the man’s hand a strong but not too aggressive of a shake. “Isaac Lahey. Nice to meet you.”

“Oh, sure. Scott and Stiles have talked about you often. It’s nice to meet you, too” Jordan smiled charmingly. His expression shifted, the skin between his eyes pulling taut. “Did you say Lahey? I knew a Lahey from Northern California.”

Isaac’s eyebrows rode high on his face. “Uh, yeah. Where did you know them from?”

“I did a tour in Afghanistan. I’m trying to remember his first name,” Jordan said.

Oh. Isaac’s heart beat a little faster. “My older brother Camden did a tour there.”

“Cam Lahey, yeah, that’s him. I can see the resemblance now,” Jordan replied.

Scott chimed in. “Isaac’s brother was killed in combat.” He stated it in a matter of fact way and Isaac was grateful; he didn’t need to get all teary eyed in front of strangers and the thought of never seeing his brother again always brought fresh pain.

“He was? I thought he….huh,” the other guy paused, collecting himself. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry to hear that. He seemed like a good guy,” Jordan offered, mouth pulled into a frown. “One of the best.”

“Come on, Jordan. Let’s get you something to drink,” Scott defused the awkward silence, tugging the other guy away.

“Talk to you later, Isaac,” Jordan called over his shoulder.

“Do you notice how Scott leaves us to fend for ourselves?” Isaac cracked. He didn’t want to dwell on anything maudlin, he wanted to have some fun.

Stiles turned his head toward Isaac but although he was making eye contact, Isaac got the sense the other guy wasn’t seeing him. Stiles seemed to be buffering, like a video program loading, but then his brain caught up and he returned Isaac’s smile. “Yeah, well that’s because we’re not guests. We’re family. Come on, let’s go help ourselves,” he lightly elbowed Isaac’s side.

That warm feeling built in Isaac’s chest again. Happiness? Contentment? He didn’t know if it was because everyone he’d met seemed to accept him so easily or if it was because Stiles had just classified him as family. 

Isaac trailed in Stiles’s wake, happy to admire the man’s backside. Stiles looked over his shoulder, a shy smile flirting across his face. Before Isaac could call out a warning, Stiles plowed into someone.

“Oooof. Sorry, didn’t see you there,” Stiles wheezed out.

The man Stiles had run into was Rafa McCall, Scott’s father. “Easy there, Stiles.”

Isaac pulled up next to Stiles, observing the way the older man kept a hand on Stiles’s shoulder. It wasn’t proprietary, or even sexual; it was almost paternal.

“Do you mind if I borrow Stiles for a moment?” Scott’s father asked Isaac.

Shrugging his shoulders, Isaac looked to Stiles who shrugged back, seeming okay with the change in plans. Isaac replied, “Sure.”

Stiles smiled at Isaac. “Do you mind grabbing me an IPA? I’ll be back in a minute.”

The warm glow hummed throughout Isaac’s body. Stiles planned on returning to Isaac’s side. “If you’re not back in ten minutes I’ll go ahead and drink it for you.”

Giving a mock scowl, Stiles let the older man tug him into the office off the living room.

Isaac headed toward the refrigerator, listening to the various conversations buzzing around him. 

A wry voice from somewhere to the left of Isaac caught his attention. “When I watch Stiles tripping across the floor like that, it’s hard to believe Rafa when he says Stiles is doing so well.”

Melissa replied, “First in his class and Rafa said he has a flair for interrogations.”

“Yeah, Stiles has a flair for lots of things.” Isaac could hear fondness in the sheriff’s tone. “Although I will say the kid is definitely cut out for law enforcement. I just worry that he’s not going to get cleared to return to work,” Stiles’s dad continued.

Isaac didn’t want to think on what would happen if Stiles couldn’t work for the FBI. The other guy hadn’t talked too much about it but Isaac could tell Stiles was settled and happy in his career. It would really blow if Stiles had to give it up. 

Blow. As in blowjobs. That’s what Isaac had on his mind. He retrieved two IPA’s and headed back to the living room.

The office door opened and Rafa guided Stiles back out into the room. The older man leaned down and whispered in Stiles’s ear, “I’m pretty sure you’ll pass the physical with flying colors. Just take it easy over the next week.”

“Thanks, I appreciate you pulling strings for me like this,” Stiles responded, his tone unexpectedly grave.

“You deserve it, kid. Now go have a beer with your friend,” Scott’s dad nudged Stiles toward Isaac before moving toward the kitchen where the older adults seemed to be congregating.

Isaac held the bottle out and Stiles took it. “Thanks, I’m parched.” The other man proceeded to tip his head back and gulp down swallows of the pale liquid, his throat working convulsively.

Adjusting himself discretely, Isaac continued to stare at the other man. Isaac could picture those pouty lips wrapping around his cock, Isaac sinking into the moist warmth of that mouth, pushing into that throat until he…

Shaking himself, Isaac refocused on the other guy. Stiles looked a whole lot better than the last time Isaac had seen him. The bruising was fading although it gave him a rather rakish look. At least his color wasn’t the sickly gray. Maybe Isaac could pound that ass without getting disapproving vibes from Scott or feeling guilty because Stiles was supposed to be recuperating.

“Do you maybe want to get out of here?” Stiles interrupted Isaac’s musings, his voice low and husky. 

“Yeah. Definitely,” Isaac gave that slow grin he’d been told was super sexy. An unpleasant thought intruded. “But where?” There was no way Isaac was going to go upstairs where the shifters could hear what he envisioned doing to the other guy.

Stiles gnawed on his lower lip. “Do you want to do some star gazing? I know a spot out by the preserve.”

Isaac could work with that. “Come on,” Isaac grabbed Stiles’s wrist and towed him toward the door.

“And where do you two think you’re sneaking off to?” Melissa called from across the room. 

_Busted._

Both men turned back. Melissa had her hands on her hips and her face was serious but her brown eyes twinkled with suppressed humor.

“We, uh,” Isaac searched for reasonable explanation and came up short.

“We were stepping outside for some fresh air,” Stiles responded.

“I suggest you step into the kitchen for some food,” the petite woman volleyed back.

“Sounds good,” Isaac settled on.

Melissa threw an arm around Isaac’s back and did the same for Stiles, herding them toward the food.

Stiles happily piled food on to this plate. Isaac sampled a little bit of everything but was a little bit more moderate in how much he took.

Both men drifted back toward the living room since the dining room was filled with lounging teens. Stiles plunked down on the stairs and Isaac followed suit.

The two men grazed in companionable silence. Isaac was pleased to see Stiles mowing through his plate; lack of appetite didn’t seem to be an issue. Isaac decided he would stick close and make sure Stiles didn’t purge his dinner; Isaac had been around too many models and actors who thought bulimia was the best way to keep their weight steady. Isaac couldn’t imagine Stiles doing that but then again, he didn’t know Stiles all that well.

Melissa came around and took their empty plates.

“You don’t have to clean up after us,” Stiles said as he refused to relinquish his plate.

“Maybe I want to make sure this ends up in the trash and not stashed under the couch,” Melissa jibed.

“Once! I did that once when I was ten. Hasn’t the statute of limitations run out on holding that over my head?” Stiles whined.

“Nope. We had ants and rodents and I shudder to think what else in the house after that happened,” Melissa replied but it was delivered with a smile. She moved on, collecting empty plates and glasses.

“There you are,” a husky voiced female sang out.

Lydia Martin. She was still as perfectly turned out as Isaac remembered her, legs displayed to advantage beneath a very short skirt, balanced atop precariously high heels.

“Hi Lydia,” Stiles said.

“Don’t you hi Lydia me,” she snapped back.

Isaac turned on the stairs so he could get a good look at Stiles. Stiles didn’t disappoint, rolling his eyes.

“You did not just roll your eyes at me, mister,” Lydia squawked. 

“Yeah, yeah he did,” Isaac smirked.

“You, no egging him on,” Lydia pointed a finger at Isaac.

And just like that Isaac felt like he was no longer on the outside looking in. He was a part of the popular group. Too bad he hadn’t felt this way back in high school when it would’ve meant more. Although he found it still meant something. That sense of contentment washed over him again.

“Hey guys,” Jordan Parrish walked up, bumping Lydia with his hip. She turned to face him, her eyebrow tilting upward. Isaac expected her to lay into him for daring to touch her but instead she grinned.

Jordan grinned back.

“Oh my God, you two, get a room,” Stiles sassed.

Lydia rolled her eyes at Stiles. “Pot, kettle.”

Heat built in Isaac’s face but he willed it away. 

“Stiles, can I have a quick word with you?” Jordan asked, ignoring the byplay between the two exes. 

Stiles climbed to his feet, long limbs graceful in a way they hadn’t been in his teens. The other guy really had matured nicely.

“Um, okay. I’ll be right back,” Stiles called over his shoulder to Isaac.

Isaac stared at the men as they disappeared out the front door. He strained to hear them but there was too much noise in the house to make out anything beyond a soft murmur.

“What’s up with those two?” Isaac asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Good question. Jordan’s been acting kind of weird this evening. He said he thought Stiles could help him out with a problem,” Lydia answered. 

“So they’re not, like, interested in each other?” Isaac ventured. There were definitely weird vibes between the two men.

Lydia grimaced as though smelling something foul. “They’d better not be,” she crossed her arms, pouting.

Isaac wasn’t sure if she wanted Jordan, or Stiles, or just didn’t want them together.

The door opened and both Isaac and Lydia turned as Stiles let himself back inside. He crossed the short space until he reached the stairs, wearing an air of distraction.

“Jordan said he needs to get up early tomorrow so he’s going to take off now,” Stiles reported.

Lydia pivoted and headed toward the door, muttering under her breath.

“Bye, Lydia,” Stiles called out. Isaac thought Lydia might’ve shot Stiles the middle finger over her shoulder but then again it could’ve been a wave.

“What was that about?” Isaac asked.

“You mean Jordan? He asked me to look into something for him,” Stiles answered but he was looking over Isaac’s shoulder instead of making eye contact. His heart remained steady but Isaac wouldn’t put it past Stiles learning how to beat a werewolf lie detector test. 

Isaac was firmly back on the outside, nose pressed to the glass staring in. He didn’t like it. At all. 

“So do you want to head out to the preserve?” Stiles asked.

His body screamed yes but Isaac’s mind wasn’t so sure. He was looking for good sex and fun times and he thought maybe he was getting in a little too deep.

Stiles leaned over and whispered, “I’ve been reading up on blowjobs.”

“Stiles!” Scott called out, sounding scandalized. He quickly approached them. “Do you mind?”

“It’s not my fault you have ridiculously sensitive hearing,” Stiles muttered but his cheeks were that pretty pink again.

Isaac stood up, grabbing Stiles’s biceps in his hand. He tugged him, carefully as to not leave a bruise, toward the front door. It pleased him that Stiles followed along. The other man didn’t argue, he didn’t question, he just followed Isaac’s lead.

“See you later, Scott,” Isaac said quietly, not wanting to draw attention to their getaway.

Scott mumbled about crazy best friends and questionable choices but he didn’t intercede.

At last they made it outside. “Wanna go for a ride?” Isaac asked as he steered the pliable man toward the Monster.

Isaac heard the uptick in Stiles’s heart. “Yeah. Definitely,” he growled hoarsely.

-0-

Stiles was a natural at many things but mastering the blowjob was proving elusive for the other guy, not that Isaac was actually complaining. 

Isaac tugged Stiles back using the fist he’d wound in the back of his hair. “Easy does it,” Isaac cooed. 

Stiles’s lips were puffy and his eyelashes were matted with moisture. No matter what Stiles tried, his gag reflex kicked in as soon as Isaac’s cock brushed the roof of his mouth. Along with the gag reflex came tears.

Isaac would be lying if he said he didn’t find the look—Stiles on his knees, frustrated, pouting and tear-stained—completely captivating. He cradled Stiles’s cheek, brushing moisture beading down his skin from his eyes. “Shhh, you’re doing so good.”

Brushing the back of his hand across his mouth, Stiles growled, “No, I’m not. Every time I feel pressure on the back of my throat I remember…”

Stiles’s thought trailed off and he dipped his chin down, avoiding eye contact.

“You remember what?” Isaac prompted, his hand sliding from the side of Stiles’s face to the back of his neck where he could toy with the longer strands of hair he couldn’t keep from touching.

“The fucking trickster fox,” Stiles rasped out. 

Oh. The Nogitsune. Isaac didn’t want to think about the damage wrought by the Nogitsune and he sure as hell didn’t want his lover getting sidetracked by unpleasant thoughts.

“Come here,” Isaac coaxed, holding out his hand. He wished he had a blanket to spread on the ground but then again, maybe both men needed something a little rougher. A little something to displace these negative thoughts.

Stiles took Isaac’s hand and Isaac easily hauled him to his feet, catching him at the waist when he almost over balanced. It was a short trip for Isaac’s fingers from waist to button fly and soon he had Stiles’s pants and boxer-briefs bunched around his thighs. It was an excellent look on the other man.

Shoving his own pants and underwear farther down, Isaac took out the packet of lube he’d shoved into his pocket after his shower. “Forget about everything except me fucking you,” he panted into Stiles’s ear.

The other guy pressed against him and Isaac could feel the guy’s cock chubbing quickly against Isaac’s thigh. “Yeah. Please,” Stiles hissed back as his hips twitched.

Isaac made quick work of opening the packet, slicking his fingers. “As a werewolf I don’t catch sexually transmitted diseased. Do you want to go bareback or do you want me to use a condom?” Isaac asked before he touched Stiles.

“Oh, God. Bareback. I want to feel every inch of you,” Stiles huffed against the side of Isaac’s neck. Shifting to the side, Isaac spread the lube over and around his cock. It suddenly felt like a race and Isaac was determined to win it.

“Remember to relax,” Isaac reminded the other man. His index finger brushed Stiles’s anus and the guy jerked in his arms. Isaac took that as a sign to move things along and soon his finger was twirling around in the warm channel.

Then two fingers, scissoring. Isaac tried to go slowly but Stiles was grinding against Isaac’s thigh and going slow wasn’t an option.

Once three fingers could be inserted into the tight passage and Stiles was sobbing incoherently into Isaac’s neck, Isaac figured the other guy was ready.

“I’m going to lift you and let your weight sink you down on me. If it’s too much,” Isaac halted as Stiles pulled one of his legs out of the constrictive clothing, and jumped up, forcing Isaac to catch him. Stiles wrapped his long legs around Isaac’s waist and wiggled until Isaac’s cock poked at his hole.

Both men sighed with relief as Isaac found his target, thrusting until he was fully seated. 

Stiles was silent. Stiles was never silent. “Hey, do you need me to—”

Once again Isaac was interrupted as Stiles yelped. “No! Please. Just. I need. Ah. Move.”

That settled that. Isaac turned until Stiles’s back leaned up against a great oak tree. It was a good thing they were still mostly clothed otherwise Stiles would get one hell of a road rash from scraping against the bark. As it was he might bruise as Isaac thrust upward, hands clamped around Stiles’s waist, lifting and dropping him to add to the friction.

“So…good,” Stiles sighed out.

Isaac couldn’t have agreed more.

Stiles shifted again and the angle changed. The other man’s head tipped backward and he just about clunked it against the tree except Isaac slid his hand up his back, cradling the back of his head, saving him from certain injury. “Easy.”

“No easy. Hard. Come on, Isaac. Please,” Stiles whined.

Jesus but Stiles was limber. And strong. Isaac wondered if he took yoga and lifted weights and then his thoughts shut down as he concentrated on the sensations zinging through his body.

Isaac rocked and he rolled and hefted Stiles, slamming him down onto this cock. The friction was amazing.

Stiles was loud and vocal but he couldn’t find his words, the sounds spilling from lips hoarse, gasping and beyond sexy.

The other guy clamped down, shoving his face into the side of Isaac’s neck again, keening softly. Isaac felt the tension in the body he held. Stiles’s toes curled, digging into the back of Isaac’s waist. Moisture flooded between their bodies, aiding in the friction. The whimpers were driving Isaac crazy.

Canting his hips, Isaac thrust one last time, finding his release.

Spots swam in front of Isaac’s eyes.

Stiles might have some work to do on his blowjob technique but he was outstanding at anal sex.

The body in his arms shivered. “Hey, are you cold?” Isaac asked.

“Mmmm,” was Stiles’s nonsensical answer.

What was the name of those monkeys who could wrap themselves tightly around someone and cling? A spider monkey. Yeah, Stiles was doing his impersonation of a spider monkey with his long arms folded around Isaac’s neck and his legs wrapped around Isaac’s waist.

Stiles’s heart was thundering in his chest and Isaac could feel those beats in his own sternum.

“I’m going to set you back on your feet, okay?” Isaac asked softly. He could’ve held Stiles like this for what felt like forever but he wanted to set the other guy’s clothing to rights, make sure he was warm enough and that Isaac hadn’t hurt him.

“Sure,” Stiles snuffled into Isaac’s neck. He unwound his legs though and Isaac bent his knees, waiting for Stiles’s feet to touch ground. Once Stiles was earthbound again, Isaac stepped backward.

Stiles wobbled and Isaac steadied him with a hand to the waist. The other guy grinned shyly at Isaac. Stiles’s hair was mussed badly, lips still obscenely swollen. Tear tracks were visible in the moonlight.

Isaac thumbed a tear away. “Hey, did I hurt you?”

Shaking his head no, Stiles remained silent. Isaac didn’t smell blood so he trusted the other guy.

Isaac tucked Stiles back into his pants and did the same for himself. He grabbed Stiles’s hand and tugged him into motion. Isaac was comfortable but Stiles gave an occasional shiver; it was time to take Stiles home where he could get warm and crash.

“Um, can I ask you something?” Stiles sounded tentative. Isaac turned to look at the other guy. Stiles was staring resolutely down at the ground as they meandered back to the Monster.

Isaac wasn’t sure he wanted to get drawn into some serious conversation but they’d just boned and he guessed he owed it to Stiles to hear him out. “Yeah.”

“Is anal sex always so intense?” Stiles asked.

“It can be,” Isaac answered slowly. “For some guys it’s about intimacy but for other guys it’s the perfect release. Most guys will tell you it doesn’t get better than a blowjob but for others anal is the absolute best.”

“Hmmm,” Stiles replied, noncommittally.

Unspoken was the real question. Did Isaac find anal sex with Stiles to be intense? Yeah, very much so. But he wasn’t about to hand that kind of power over to anyone.

At least not yet.

Winding an arm around Stiles’s waist, Isaac guided him through the trees. The way Stiles leaned into him, trusted him to get Stiles to safety…it was like catnip to Isaac.

Isaac needed to give some thought to whether he wanted to stay in Beacon Hills for a while or if it was time to get out.

-0-

Isaac had just ducked out of the coffee shop, his Americano gripped in his hand, when someone hailed him from down the sidewalk.

“Isaac, I was hoping to have a word with you,” an elegant looking lady said. As she drew nearer Isaac realized it was Lydia Martin’s mother who sometimes had taught classes at the high school as a substitute teacher.

“Um, okay? What can I do for you Mrs. Martin?” Isaac asked.

The smile was blinding and Isaac knew where Lydia got her good looks from. The woman took Isaac’s arm. “Let’s step back into the coffee shop. I have a proposition for you.”

Isaac let himself be guided back into the shop but he raised his eyebrow in disbelief. “A proposition?”

“Not that kind of proposition,” she giggled. “A business proposition.”

The two settled at a round table in front of the window. The girl working the counter came over to their table and dropped off a drink for Mrs. Martin. Lydia’s mom pressed some cash into the girl’s hand. “Thanks, Hannah.”

Once the girl walked away, Mrs. Martin put her hand out. “First things first, please call me Natalie.”

Isaac dutifully shook her hand. Before he could say anything, Mrs. Martin continued, “Now where were we? Oh yes, my business proposition. I’ve been thinking of buying the bar on the other end of town as an investment but I don’t know anything practical about running them. Lydia tells me you’ve got experience.”

“You want me to bartend for you?” Isaac asked. 

“Well, maybe that too sometimes but I’m really looking for someone to manage the place,” Mrs. Martin—Natalie—explained.

“I’ve never managed a bar before,” Isaac protested.

“Have you done inventory before?” she asked, narrowing her eyes shrewdly.

“Well, yes, but,” Isaac began.

Natalie cut him off. “Have you placed orders for liquor and food before?”

“Sure, but,” Isaac paused to get his thoughts in order.

“Have you helped hire bartenders before?” Natalie asked, taking advantage of Isaac’s pause.

Isaac could totally see the resemblance between mother and daughter, not just in their looks but also in their no-holds-barred style of interrogation. “Yes, I’ve sat in on interviews before.”

“Then you already have more practical experience than I have. Here is a summary of my plans, including an outline of what I’d need from a manager, and a projected timeline,” she withdrew an envelope from her capacious purse and handed it to Isaac. “I’d like for you to read this information over and then I’d like to set up a meeting about your thoughts on this job opportunity, including your salary requirements.” She paused to look at her watch. “And now I need to get going or I’ll be late for school. Thank you so much for taking the time to speak with me, Isaac. I look forward to talking to you more about this opportunity.”

Natalie Martin swept out of the coffee shop before Isaac could formulate a proper response of any kind.

The doorbell jingled and Isaac looked over to see Scott entering the establishment. The True Alpha gestured that he would be right over before he approached the counter and placed an order. He joined Isaac at the little table, two scones and a cup of some complicated coffee on a tray.

“Here,” Scott said, handing one of the scones over to Isaac. “You look hungry.” Then Scott squinted as he looked more closely at Isaac. “Actually you look like you’re in shock. What’s wrong?”

“Hurricane Natalie just struck,” Isaac muttered as he took a bite of the flaky goodness. 

“Natalie, who’s Natalie?” Scott asked before he took a bite out of his scone.

“Natalie Martin, Lydia’s mom. She approached me about managing a bar she’s thinking of buying,” Isaac explained before he took a sip of his coffee. The caffeine might burn through his system quickly but the taste alone was worth the money.

“Dude, that’s great!” Scott cried, reaching across the table and slapping Isaac’s shoulder. “You should totally do it. You could move back here and we could hang out.”

Isaac appreciated Scott’s enthusiasm but he wasn’t sure he was ready to take a serious job. Or move back here.

When he didn’t say anything, Scott put down his scone and asked, “Isaac, don’t you want to come back here? I miss you.”

Scott’s heart didn’t skip. Isaac, even without hearing the truth of the statement, could tell Scott was being genuine.

“I miss you, too, Scott,” Isaac settled for. That was the truth.

“But you don’t want to be in a pack again?” Scott guessed.

“I don’t know. I’m used to being on my own,” Isaac explained. “Also, I have a lot of history here, not all of it good.”

Scott nodded his head. “I know. I was hoping we could make some better memories. You’d get to know Liam, Hayden, Mason and Corey better. Jordan and Malia, too. You already know Lydia. Not to mention me and my mom. You could stay with us as long as you wanted.”

There was one person in particular Scott hadn’t mentioned. Before Isaac could point that out, Scott plunged onward. “I know Stiles would be happy if you stayed in Beacon Hills.”

“Stiles said that?” Isaac asked, his heart giving a leap of excitement.

Scott smirked. “Yeah, he did. Although I know he doesn’t want to pressure you.”

Pressure. That’s exactly what Isaac felt right now and it was causing him anxiety.

“Look, just give it some thought,” Scott suggested. “Now finish your scone so I can drag you into the preserve for some training exercises.”

“Well if we’re doing training exercises, I need more than one little scone,” Isaac demanded.

“Fine. Let’s go to the diner and have a greasy breakfast, my treat,” Scott said.

“You’re on,” Isaac accepted the plans. He didn’t have any other responsibilities at the moment and at least training would allow him the chance to concentrate on something other than Natalie Martin’s proposition. 

-0-

Isaac had picked up Stiles to take him to the bar Natalie Martin had put an offer on. 

The place was currently called Champ’s. Natalie wanted to rename it Martininis, a play on her last name and martinis. Isaac liked the idea of a martini bar. With the refurbishing of the west end of town to make it more attractive to young urban professionals, a martini themed bar should be a hit.

They rolled into the parking lot and as the Monster skidded across the gravel, Isaac mentally began a list of things that should be addressed, like resurfacing the parking area. 

Once they were parked, the kickstand was down, and Stiles was stowing his helmet, the other man looked around. “This doesn’t really seem like a good place for a sports bar,” Stiles commented as he looked at a frozen yogurt store on one side of the bar and a sushi restaurant on the other. The lack of vehicles in front of the bar seemed to bear that observation out.

“Let’s go inside and see what it’s like,” Isaac suggested. His hand automatically went to Stiles’s low back, guiding him across a patchy piece of chewed up gravel. 

Stiles flashed him a shy smile. Isaac had seen a whole host of smiles from the human but this one, lips quirked up like Stiles had a secret, dark eyes sparkling, might just be his favorite.

Isaac beat Stiles to the door, sweeping it open. His ears were assaulted by the high volume of three large screen TV’s, all with different programs competing for a non-existent audience, none of them featuring sports.

The two went to the bar where a beleaguered looking middle-aged man greeted them. 

“What do you have on tap?” Stiles asked.

The usual litany of beers tripped off of the man’s tongue but Stiles frowned. “Could I get a Corona please?”

“Make that two,” Isaac tacked on.

The man moved away to get their beers and Stiles crinkled up his nose. “I was hoping for some Surly Furious or Bell's Two Hearted Ale on tap. Lame.”

“Not everyone is an IPA beer snob like you are,” Isaac chided him.

“So what kind of drinks would you offer here?” Stiles asked.

Anxiety bubbled in Isaac’s chest. He pushed it away. Stiles was just making conversation and Isaac had invited him along to scope out the place so talk of Isaac’s job prospects shouldn’t freak him out…yet it did.

Stiles’s phone chimed an incoming text. When the other man didn’t pull his phone out, Isaac asked, “Aren’t you going to read your text?”

“I didn’t even hear it. It’s too loud in here,” Stiles lightly complained but he pulled his phone out, looked at the message, and then tucked it away.

“So back to drinks. I know how to make a basic gin martini, shaken and not stirred, but do you think Mrs. Martin would feature those exotic ones like Appletinis?” Stiles asked.

“That’s the kind of drink that would appeal to twenty-something woman. The men wouldn’t necessarily want to drink an Appletini or Chocolatini but they’d come here for the hot twenty-something women I bet,” Isaac explained. 

“True that,” Stiles agreed.

Isaac drummed him fingers on the bar, thinking. “A whiskey menu would probably be a good draw for those more inclined toward hard alcohol.”

“You mean like the aforementioned males,” Stiles nodded his agreement. “I know I would totally be into that.”

That was perfect. Stiles was the demographic in question.

In Isaac’s mind, the whole enterprise was shaping up. He had ideas for the drink menu and turning the bar from sports themed to classy, hip gin joint wouldn’t take much either. That was perfect. 

The bartender set their bottles down along with glasses and wedges of lime. “Allow me,” Isaac said as he competently poured Stiles’s Corona and squeezed the fresh lime into it before wedging it on to the edge of the glass.

“Very classy,” Stiles commented. “Thank you.”

Stiles’s phone chimed again and this time he pulled it out without prompting, squinting as he stared at the message.

“Problem?” Isaac asked.

“It’s from Jordan,” Stiles answered.

Isaac would admit he was jealous of Green-Eyes. The guy was good looking, had a good job and apparently had interest in Stiles. 

“What does he want?” Isaac prompted as he dealt with his own beer. The tang of lime hit the back of his mouth and he sighed with pleasure.

“It’s about you, actually,” Stiles said, sipping his own beer.

“Me? What about me?” Isaac frowned. Was Jordan warning Stiles off of Isaac? What the fuck?

“Jordan thinks Camden is alive and he asked me to use my contacts to do some checking,” Stiles blurted out, returning Isaac’s frown.

This, people poking their noses in his business and stirring up shit, was exactly why Isaac didn’t want to move back to Beacon Hills.

Isaac slammed his glass down on the bar. It disintegrated into slivers that had Stiles ducking backward, avoiding the shrapnel. 

“Keep your nose out of my business,” Isaac gritted out. He exited into the crisp evening, ignoring Stiles’s calls.

Stiles could call his buttinski friend, Jordan, to come pick him up. If Isaac stuck around, he’d probably pummel the human and that would make Scott sad.

_Fuck!_

-0-

Isaac was sprawled across his bed in the guest bedroom, scrolling through his emails, when the scream reverberated through the air.

Clutching his hands over his sensitive hears, Isaac cringed away from the noise but it was insidious.

_What the fuck?_

Oh. Lydia’s thing. The Banshee Scream.

Isaac was still trying to shake off the devastating effects of _the scream_ when his cell phone spit out a breaking news text about a gas main break in the pipes below San Francisco triggering a massive explosion. The number of casualties and deaths was unreported at this time but the area was a densely populated area…it didn’t look good.

Isaac jumped on the Monster and roared off to Deaton’s clinic. He knew Scott, Lydia and assorted other pack members were with Deaton conducting some sort of experiment. Isaac was still avoiding Stiles so he’d vowed to stay away. Now he was drawn to the clinic, fear hammering in his chest.

It was one of the slowest ten-minute drives in Isaac’s history and he threw the kickstand and hopped off of the bike in record time. The blue Jeep was there along with a Prius. Stiles didn’t have his own wheels so he may or may not be here.

He skidded into the clinic, looking for his pack. Somewhere downstairs he could hear low murmuring so he headed that way.

Scott was comforting Lydia whose head was bent against his chest. The petite lady was biting back sobs and muttering beneath her breath, her voice shredded.

Isaac cleared his voice. “It was a gas line break in San Francisco.”

Lydia nodded as though this was just confirmation of what she already knew. Scott gathered Lydia closer, rubbing his hand up and down her back. “Thanks for coming, man,” Scott said quietly.

“Yeah. Of course.” Isaac swallowed, rubbed the back of his neck; he didn’t dwell on who he might’ve picked that habit up form. “So where is everyone?”

“Deaton took Liam and Mason into town to get a few things about a half an hour ago,” Scott replied.

Isaac crossed his arms. 

Scott smirked. “Oh, you mean Stiles?”

Isaac rolled his eyes, wondering why all of his friends were such assholes. “Yes, I mean Stiles. Vulnerable human? Always getting into trouble?”

Lydia picked her head up from Scott’s shoulder. “I dare you to tell Stiles he’s vulnerable.” She seemed to be recovering from her shock or whatever that was but her mascara was dripping down her face.

Gesturing under his own eyes, Isaac suggested, “You might want to freshen up a little.”

The woman huffed but nodded, heading toward the back of the room where there was a bathroom.

“So Stiles?” Isaac prompted again.

“He should still be at home. Let me call him,” Scott said. He pulled his phone out but he couldn’t get a signal. “I think that broke my phone.”

Isaac pulled his own phone out. “He might not answer if I call him.”

This time Scott rolled his eyes. “He’ll answer, doofus. Just call.”

The phone rang and rang and rang but Stiles didn’t pick up.

Scott grabbed the phone without asking. He punched in a number. “Yeah Sheriff, it’s Scott. Do you know where Stiles—? Oh, fifteen minutes ago. Yeah, I’ll let you know,” Scott terminated the call, frowning. “Sheriff Stilinski said he dropped Stiles off here fifteen minutes ago.”

Isaac’s feet were already moving. He sprinted up the stairs but headed for the back entrance; he would’ve seen Stiles if the guy had come in the front.

Hitting the back door and a full run, Isaac stuttered to a stop. 

Stiles was here.

Stiles was crumpled against the side of the building.

Isaac approached as though Stiles was a skittish horse. “Stiles?”

Stiles didn’t move.

Kneeling down, Isaac touched a shoulder tentatively. The touch was enough to knock Stiles from his crouch, the guy tipping over.

“Hey, hey. I’ve got you,” Isaac cooed. He would’ve been disgusted with his tone of voice if he hadn’t been so worried.

Stiles lolled in his arms. Isaac could see his chest moving up and down and he could hear his heartbeat. Stiles’s eyes were halfway lidded but Isaac didn’t see a spark of recognition.

Blood seeped from the corners of Stiles’s eyes. 

And his nostrils. 

And his ears.

This wasn’t good.

In fact this was very, very bad.

An SUV rocketed into the parking lot, peeling to a stop a few yards from where Isaac cradled Stiles’s body.

Scott was talking from somewhere close by but Isaac looked to Chris as he stepped out of the SUV to give him direction. The hunter beckoned Isaac so Isaac gathered the limp body close to his and rose to his feet.

Chris guided Isaac into the backseat. Scott said something about getting Lydia and following behind.

Soon Chris was peeling back out of the parking lot.

Stiles lay in Isaac’s lap. His eyes had finally closed and the blood seemed to have stopped seeping from the various orifices.

None of that made Isaac feel any better.

Isaac and Stiles had parted on less than cordial terms and now Stiles was hurt.

Touching Stiles’s face carefully, Isaac felt deep pain. He drew it out to the best of his ability but it was more than he could handle.

In some ways Isaac wished Stiles would wake up. Then he thought of the pain and realized waking up might not be in Stiles’s best interest right now.

Isaac gathered Stiles closer. That was the only thing he could think to do.

-0-

Chris was on his phone. Was now really the time to be making phone calls? Oh, he was calling Melissa. She was working and so was Liam’s stepfather. At least they didn’t have to worry about trying to explain the supernatural phenomenon.

Not that Isaac really cared at the moment. Stiles was so still, and hurt, and Isaac was losing his mind.

This was exactly why he hadn’t wanted to form close attachments.

People Isaac was close to eventually left him.

Melissa met them at the ambulance bay, her professional mask firmly in place. She barked out orders and soon Stiles was settled on a gurney, being whisked inside.

“What the hell happened out there? Is everyone else okay?” the nurse stared first at Chris and then at Isaac.

Isaac filled the void of silence since Chris barely managed a shrug of his shoulders in reply. “Banshee scream in response to the gas main break in San Fran is our best guess. Scott and Lydia seemed fine. They, and Stiles, were the only ones at the clinic at the time of the,” Isaac paused, looking around, and then whispered, “scream.”

With pursed lips, Melissa nodded her head. “Okay, at least more people weren’t affected. Although Stiles really can’t afford to sustain many more injuries.”

“Mel, he was bleeding from his eyes, ears and nose,” Chris interjected.

The nurse winced. “Not good. I’ll let Dr. Geyer know what happened. Make yourselves comfortable in the waiting room. I’m going to call Noah then check on Stiles. I’ll let you know when I have news,” she threw over her shoulder as she walked briskly away.

Isaac stayed with Chris as he parked his SUV. They solemnly made their way into the ER waiting room, dropping into the hard plastic monstrosities masquerading as chairs. 

The sheriff sprinted into the waiting room, sight quickly landing on them. He jogged over. “What the hell happened? How’s Stiles?”

“You know that gas line disaster in San Fran? Lydia screamed in response,” Isaac replied, tersely.

Sheriff Stilinski winced. “Oh, damn. I’d just dropped Stiles off at the clinic. If only I’d told him to wait until Scott could come get him instead of offering him a ride.”

Chris stood up and put his hand on the other man’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly. “You of all people know you can’t think that way. Stiles is one tough cookie. Let’s wait to hear from the doctor before we borrow trouble.”

Stiles was tough, but he was also only human. The blood…Isaac couldn’t think about it. It reminded him of Allison…

Nope, it wouldn’t do Stiles any good to dwell on that episode either.

Had Isaac really thought he could cut Stiles out of his life? So what if Stiles had been meddling in Isaac’s business. That’s what Stiles did. He meddled.

The entrance doors slid open and Scott and Lydia entered the waiting room. The five of them crowded into the corner, away from the persistent buzzing of the TV, and away from the other souls slouched on their hard plastic chairs.

Scott looked to Isaac. “Any word?”

“Your mom said Dr. Geyer was on duty and she’d give us a report when they knew something,” Isaac replied.

Stiles’s dad wrapped an arm around Lydia’s shoulder and squeezed. “It’s not your fault, Lydia.”

She looked into Sheriff Stilinski’s face, frowning, but she didn’t argue. She also didn’t agree with his assessment.

An excruciating hour passed by before Melissa came out. “We’re treating this like a ruptured aneurysm. The rupture released some blood into the spaces around the brain, called a subarachnoid hemorrhage. Dr. Geyer is monitoring the pressure while giving Stiles some medications to lower it.”

Lydia sat straight up, as though shocked by an electrical charge. “Subarachnoid hemorrhages are life threatening with a 50% risk of death,” she gasped out.

“Lydia, Stiles’s mean arterial pressure isn’t anywhere near 130 mm. Dr. Geyer thinks he can successfully treat him,” Melissa explained to Lydia although her hand reached out and latched on to the sheriff’s hand.

Scott’s voice sounded very small. “Are they intubating him?”

Melissa sighed. “Yeah, sweetie, that’s protocol for SAH’s. But Stiles is fighting hard. He even woke up and responded to some question.”

The sheriff jumped to his feet. “I need to see him.”

“Of course. They’re settling him in ICU. There’s a nice waiting room up there I can take you to and I’ll come get you when Stiles is settled.

Isaac’s chest felt like a heavy block was sitting on it, making his ability to draw breath increasingly difficult. The desire to bolt from the hospital was strong.

Chris slung an around Isaac’s shoulders. “Come on.”

That took the option of running off of the table. 

It was another hour before Isaac was strongly encouraged to visit Stiles in person. The astringent smells of the hospital almost, but not quite, obliterated the fresh smell Isaac associated with Stiles.

The human was pale and still on the hospital bed. His chest rose and fell rhythmically in time with the machine pumping up and down next to him. 

A slight noise, rustling or rubbing of sheets, caught Isaac’s attention. He looked around the cubicle but he and Stiles were the only occupants.

_Rustle._

Isaac’s focus zoned in on the long fingers splayed against the cotton sheets. 

Those fingers were moving. Rubbing and tapping.

Isaac’s attention shot to Stiles’s face. Stiles’s left eyelid twitched.

“Stiles, can you hear me?” Isaac asked, his hand seeking out the twitching fingers on the bed.

Stiles’s fingers wrapped around Isaac’s and the human squeezed.

Isaac interpreted that response as a yes. A huge smile broke out across his face. “I’m going to let Melissa know you’re awake. “ Isaac paused at the doorway. “Don’t go anywhere,” he cautioned. 

The exhalation was tiny but to Isaac it sounded like a snort of amusement. 

Stiles might be grievously injured but he seemed to be conscious, and still have his sense of humor.

Once Isaac found Melissa he was going to find Lydia and let her know that her friend was doing better then they’d thought.

Sharing his relief with someone else who cared brought some measure of comfort to Isaac and he jetted out of the room. The fact that he’d let himself care for someone...Isaac would think on that later. For now he had a mission.

-0-

Stiles was in a private room and it looked like he was going to make a full recovery. 

Isaac knocked lightly on the door and carefully let himself into the room despite not receiving an invitation to enter. He’d thought Stiles would be pleased to hear he was recovering well and should be released in the next day or two but instead Isaac observed the human staring pensively out the window.

“Stiles?” Isaac said quietly. He didn’t want to startle the recuperating man.

The man in question continued to stare out the window, either ignoring Isaac’s presence or oblivious to it. Both options were alarming.

Approaching the bed with caution, Isaac tried again. “Hey, everything okay?”

This time Stiles’s attention swung from the window to Isaac. The other man smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, hi Isaac.”

Stiles didn’t rattle off complaints about the food or being awoken every few hours or about his right to privacy being stripped from him in the hell he called the hospital. 

Isaac had the sense that Stiles was aware of Isaac on one level but beneath the surface he was thinking on something else. Something important.

“So I heard they’re going to spring you in the next day or two,” Isaac said as he lowered himself into the chair next to Stiles’s bed. “I bet you’re looking forward to getting out of here.”

“Getting out here…of yeah. Of course. Can’t wait,” Stiles replied but his tone was distracted.

“I thought you’d be over the moon! What’s going on?” Isaac prodded.

“Over the moon, um, isn’t that more your thing than mine?” Stiles retorted but it wasn’t his usual lively repartee. 

Isaac checked the other man over with this enhanced senses. Visually Stiles looked like he was on the mend; he was still pale but the dark splotches beneath his eyes had faded. Stiles’s heart and lungs sounded good so at least there didn’t seem to be something going on there. The human’s scent was…off. Acrid, like mourning.

“Did something happen? Do you need me to get someone?” Isaac tensed his legs to stand up but Stiles waved him off.

Isaac sank back down into the limited comforts of the chair and waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Stiles stared down at his own hands as they worried at the blanket.

“Stiles, please, what’s going on?” Isaac finally caved to the silence.

“Sorry, guess I’m a little distracted. I don’t meet the physical standards for the FBI any more so they’ve officially cut me loose.” Stiles’s tone was flat.

That explained the mourning, the being distracted, the general unhappiness.

“That sucks, man,” Isaac responded.

Stiles nodded his head in agreement but didn’t contribute anything further to the conversation.

Isaac felt the need to make Stiles feel better. Anxiety bubbled in his chest, a tightness making it difficult to breath, and Isaac made a decision then and there. He’d been proceeding along, half heartedly, but this was it. He knew what he wanted to do. 

The anxiety lifted just like that.

“I was thinking I’d take Mrs. Martin up on her offer. I’ve got a lead on an apartment, I’m going check it out this afternoon. Do you want to stay with me once you’re released? At least for a while?” Isaac offered. Staying in Beacon Hills made sense. He’d have the support of the pack, stabile job and maybe something more depending on Stiles.

Stiles pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “I don’t think I’m going to be very good company.”

Isaac latched on to one of the hands and drew it away from Stiles’s face. Stiles splayed the fingers of his other hand so both eyes were visible. The moisture he’d scented in the air made itself known in the tears pooling in those pretty brown eyes. “Hey, you don’t have to be good company. Anyway, maybe I can distract you,” Isaac teased as he pulled Stiles’s wrist to his mouth and licked at the skin.

Stiles shivered. He didn’t give off his usual scent of arousal at Isaac’s antics but he didn’t pull away either. Isaac shifted his hold on the hand until he had it cradled between his own, rubbing softly. Just that bit of physical contact made him feel better. He could only hope it did the same for Stiles.

“Maybe I could stay with you for a little while, just until I figure out what the hell I’m going to do with the rest of my life,” Stiles sighed. Then the human grabbed on to one of Isaac’s hands and squeezed. “Thanks for the offer.”

-0-

The lead on the apartment had panned out. It was a loft in the same complex as Derek’s old loft. He thought he’d maybe find it hard living in that arrangement again—just when Isaac had felt like he’d belonged, Derek had kicked him out—but sharing with Stiles was not remotely the same.

In the two weeks since Stiles had been released from the hospital, Isaac discovered they were very compatible when it came to living together. They kept similar hours, liked doing similar things, and liked eating the same foods. Stiles even seemed to share some of Isaac’s neat freak gene and as a result, things went smoothly. They didn’t argue over whose turn it was to take the trash out or who should do the dishes. The one blemish Isaac had found with Stiles was that the other guy squeezed the tube of toothpaste from the middle instead of the end; Stiles had solved that problem by using a separate tube.

They were also far more compatible sexually than Isaac had thought. They both had intense sex drives and they both wanted sex pretty much all of the time.

Take for example this evening. Isaac had really plowed Stiles’s ass—the other guy liked it rough and he loved anal—and after showering together, to conserve water naturally, they’d collapsed in bed.

At least Isaac thought he’d worn out the human with his supernatural fueled sexual prowess but apparently not. Stiles was sprawled next to him on his stomach, three naked limbs exposed while a mere triangle of sheet covered some of that magnificent ass and a leg, humping the mattress.

Attention traveling the long expanse of exposed body, Isaac admired the sleeping Stiles as he would never be allowed to do while the other guy was awake. The splatter of freckles and moles dotting the creamy skin, the wide shoulders that tapered to a ridiculously small waist, the bulge of lean muscles on the sleek frame. Stiles was even making those cute little sex noises deep in his throat that Isaac knew he’d be embarrassed about—kittenish and vulnerable and way sexier than Isaac had ever thought possible when coming from another guy.

A strangled mewl of distress alarmed Isaac; those weren’t the sounds of a man having a wet dream. 

“Hey, hey, Stiles. You’re okay,” Isaac murmured, his hand smoothing the too cool skin of the human’s back.

Instead of melting into the touch like Stiles usually did, yielding even in sleep, Stiles tensed up.

“Stiles?” Isaac called his name with more authority. Stiles was prone to nightmares but his hips were still twitching up and down, circling, seeking gratification. 

Isaac’s cock plumped at the provocative sight even as worry thrummed through him when Stiles didn’t acknowledge his name. Isaac could remember Scott speaking fondly of Stiles’s ability to sleep through anything when he was worn out but other than the spectacular sex they hadn’t done anything to account for that level of exhaustion.

Sitting up, Isaac reached over and touched Stiles’s naked shoulder, giving him a firm shake. “Hey, Stiles, time to wake up.”

Those long, oftentimes uncoordinated, limbs flopped with the forceful shove but the only evidence Isaac had that Stiles might have felt his touch was the decidedly unsexy moan the other man made.

Wary of being punched if Stiles suddenly woke up—Isaac had too many memories of being hit to take it cavalierly despite his werewolf enhanced strength—he nevertheless grabbed Stiles’s shoulders and turned him over. 

His enhanced eyesight along with the moonlight snaking around the curtain allowed Isaac to observe the moisture streaking Stiles’s cheeks. The two men were not in a tender relationship by any stretch of the imagination but Isaac’s resolve to remain aloof melted at the sight of the tears.

Carefully gathering Stiles into his arms, Isaac leaned against the headboard, settling Stiles so they were mostly chest-to-chest and he could cuddle the human. “It’s just a bad dream. You’re okay,” Isaac soothed as he carded his fingers through Stiles’s disheveled hair.

Stiles continued to rock in Isaac’s hold but the tears didn’t let up. Stiles’s cock was an iron rod against Isaac’s thigh and he gave thought to coaxing the orgasm from the other man but something held him back.

With a choked cry, Stiles convulsed in Isaac’s arms, the climax sweeping through the smaller man’s body. Sometimes Isaac forgot he had at least four inches and fifty pounds on Stiles, what with the human’s larger than life personality, but here in bed he definitely remembered it. Remembered it and totally got turned on by it. Holding Stiles down and toying with his body, making him moan and thrash and beg.

Except when despite shaking apart with his release, Stiles continued to leak tears, little sobbing noises caught in the back of his throat. Isaac also didn’t feel semen on his skin but Stiles’s cock was no longer rock solid hard. 

“Stiles? You okay?” Isaac coaxed as he petted his hand along Stiles’s spine.

The other man snuggled closer, rubbing his moist cheek against Isaac’s chest but didn’t wake up.

Isaac shimmied down the headboard, resettling the lax body in his arms, content to hold Stiles close. 

It took a while but Isaac finally drifted back to sleep, lulled by the steady heartbeat of the man he held close.

-0-

Stiles hadn’t wanted to make a fuss but Isaac, Scott and Lydia had all insisted he see someone about his weird nighttime episode. Caving to peer pressure, Stiles had acquiesced to see Deaton. The threat of Lydia coming back to town to bully Stiles into it had done the trick.

“You do know that I’m human, right? Not that I want to see a doctor but do you really think a vet is the best health practitioner for me, Scotty?” Stiles paced back and forth, forth and back, until Isaac was dizzy with the other man’s continual movements. Stiles kept moving despite his own drooping shoulders and dragging step.

Scott turned his face toward the ceiling, taking a deep breath. “I’m just worried about you, Stiles.”

Stiles opened his mouth for rebuttal when they were interrupted.

“Stiles, you do remember that I’m not just a veterinarian, yes?” Dr. Deaton entered the room, a book open in his hands. His tone was mild mannered as usual, unruffled by Stiles’s grousing. Isaac had always suspected the druid-slash-vet enjoyed winding Stiles up. 

Come to think of it, most of Stiles’s acquaintances seemed to take pleasure in doing that to him. Isaac admitting he enjoyed doing it. Nothing was more satisfying than teasing Stiles until the guy was pink in the face, gesturing wildly and gibbering about something or other, and then silencing him with a kiss. Or a stroke. Or a—

Scott elbowed Isaac hard in the ribs and shot him a disapproving look. Whoops. Being around pack was good for Isaac’s wolf but he sometimes forgot about the lack of privacy that occurred when others could see, hear or smell more than the average human.

“So what’s the verdict, Doc?” Stiles stopped his pacing but he continued to fidget where he stood.

“I’ve narrowed it down to two options. Succubus or incubus. Traditionally repeated sexual activity with an incubus or succubus can result in the deterioration of health, or even death,” Deaton responded before he snapped the book in his hands shut and set it down on his desk. “Have you been unusually tired recently?”

Before Stiles could answer, Scott blurted out a loud, “Yes! Tired, pale, weight loss despite no decrease in appetite. The FBI doctors tested him and it’s not cancer, hyperthyroidism or an infection. Even though there could be residual side effects from the banshee-induced-subarachnoid hemorrhage, they don’t seem to fit with the, uh, more unusual sexual episode.”

“Stiles, is there anything else you’d like to contribute,” Dr. Deaton asked using a gentle tone.

Stiles threw up his arms. “Apparently everyone knows my business better than I do. What more could I possibly add?” The human seemed to be going through the motions of being outraged but there was an underlying scent of weariness present. Also a hint of resignation.

“If you’re agreeable, I’d like to try something. I know a ritual banishment that should work, or if it doesn’t it should at least shed a little light on what we’re dealing with here. Stiles?” Dr. Deaton turned his full attention to the human standing before him.

“You’re being a little vague about what’s involved here. Will it hurt?” Stiles replied. His whole posture was drooping and Isaac wanted nothing more than to wrap the human up in his arms, keep him safe, keep him satisfied…

“For fuck’s sake, Isaac. Maybe you’re the incubus,” Scott grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest, staring at Isaac with a frown on his face.

“That’s an interesting theory, Scott. Let’s test it out,” the druid said.

Before Isaac could lodge a complaint, or move, Deaton withdrew a vial from his pocket and flung liquid into Isaac’s face. “Christo.”

Isaac wiped his face with his sleeve. “What is this, an episode of _Supernatural_?

Stiles laughed and warmth filled Isaac’s chest. 

“You know as well as I do sometimes fiction borrows from fact,” Deaton began in that lecturing, pedantic tone.

Scott jumped in to the rescue. “Okay, Isaac didn’t flinch so I guess that means he’s not an incubus. What’s next?”

“Stiles, let’s move into an exam room where you can stretch out on a table. I’m going to burn some candles and complete the ritual banishment spell. And no, it won’t cause you any pain,” the druid explained as he moved around his office, gathering a variety of supplies.

Isaac, having visited Scott numerous times while his friend worked back in the day, was well versed with the layout of the clinic. He wrapped a hand around Stiles’s biceps and guided him down the hallway to the exam room.

Stiles baulked inside of the room as his attention focused on the large metal exam table in the middle of the room. Isaac herded Stiles along. “Come on, I know the metal is cold but I’ll warm you up later.”

The human smiled and it was one of those slow, sweet smiles that never failed to warm Isaac. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”

“I insist. Now, let’s get you settled,” Isaac murmured before he cradled Stiles’s back with one arm and swept his other arm behind Stiles’s knees. In the blink of an eye, Stiles was cradled to Isaac’s chest. The human curled his arms around Isaac’s neck and craned upward until his soft lips made contact with Isaac’s.

“You two are the absolute worst. No more touching!” Scott exclaimed as he swept into the room, Deaton on his heels.

Isaac approached the exam table, gently settling Stiles upon it. He kept his arms around Stiles while Deaton moved around the room, lighting candles and putting pinches of sweet smelling herbs in the flames.

“All right, Stiles, just lean back and relax. We’ll have some answers within the next five minutes,” the older man promised.

Isaac guided Stiles’s upper body down until he rested flat on his back atop the exam table. The human folded his hands over his flat stomach and took a deep breath, before closing his eyes. “Ready when you are.”

Deaton chanted something, sounded like Latin although Isaac could only say with certainty that it wasn’t French, and sprinkled more things into the flames of the candles. Isaac didn’t really pay attention to the druid as he was too busy focusing on his boyfriend.

Stiles’s respirations were light and even and his tense muscles began to relax. Isaac kept expecting something to happen but nothing ever did.

The older man extinguished the candles and Scott yelped. “Is that it?”

Alan Deaton inclined his head but didn’t speak for a full minute. Isaac found he was holding his breath.

Finally the other man spoke. “I don’t know what to tell you. Stiles definitely isn’t under the influence of a succubus or an incubus. Even without my Doctor of Veterinary Medicine I can see Stiles is failing to thrive though. I will continue to do some research but at the moment I’m confounded.”

Scott walked Deaton out of the room, speaking softly, and then returned to Isaac’s side. “I thought for sure some creature was siphoning Stiles’s energy.”

“How sad is it that I wanted that to be the case? At least that seemed like something we could fight,” Isaac said.

A hand squeezed Isaac’s shoulder. “We’d better get Sleeping Beauty here back home. Do you need some help?”

Isaac realized Stiles was deeply asleep. He seemed so young and relaxed when he slept. Vulnerable, too. It made Isaac’s wolf bristle with protectiveness. “Can you drop us off at the loft?” Isaac asked he scooped Stiles up into his arms again. This time Stiles didn’t thread his arms around Isaac’s neck. He hung passively in Isaac’s grip and Isaac’s chest squeezed in fear.

“Sure thing,” Scott replied. Isaac waited for some pep talk but the alpha seemed as dispirited as Isaac.

Isaac pulled the lax weight in his arms against his chest more tightly. 

Stiles wasn’t going to like it but the next step was probably going back to the doctors at the hospital. Something had to be causing these symptoms. Isaac refused to give up until he had an answer.

-0-

“Hey, Stiles, I brought back breakfast. Get your lazy ass out of bed,” Isaac called out as he let himself into the apartment.

Silence greeted Isaac.

Setting down the bag and tray with the coffees, Isaac peered into the bedroom. The bed was barren.

Isaac leaned his head out but the bathroom door was open and he didn’t detect any sounds coming from that room.

Stepping into the bedroom, Isaac gasped as he discovered Stiles’s whereabouts—on the floor next to the bed in a heap.

“Shit,” Isaac spat as he kneeled next to his lover. Stiles was crumpled on the hardwood floor, his cheek mashed into the unforgiving surface, his eyes closed. He was breathing was steady and even but something was off.

Stiles’s eyelids suddenly snapped open and Isaac, startled, leaned backward until he hit his tipping point and landed on his ass.

A slight smile curved Stiles’s full lips. “I sort of fell,” the human murmured.

“I can see that,” Isaac responded as he shifted until he was on his knees again. “What happened?”

“I, uh, don’t know? I began feeling weird and when I sat up, I got woozy. Must’ve fallen over,” Stiles explained as he shifted, hands planted on the floor, moving like he was going to get upright.

That’s when Isaac heard it. Stiles’s heartbeat had a drag to it, what had the music teacher called it—syncopation? Stiles’s heartbeat had always seemed to match the energetic human—loud and fast but at least regular. Currently there was an extra beat, almost like an echo.

“How about you just stay put for a moment?” Isaac suggested and when Stiles’s licked his lips, a tell that he was going to argue, he changed tactics. “Just let me catch my breath for a moment, okay? You gave me a bit of a scare.”

Stiles subsided although his scowl demonstrated his unhappiness.

“When you said you felt weird, what did you mean?” Isaac probed. 

Stiles propped his head up on a hand, reclining as gracefully as possible on the hardwood surface. “There was kind of a fluttery feeling in my chest. Like birds beating their wings or something. I dunno, just weird.”

Isaac did not like how this morning was shaping up. He was pretty certain there was something going on with Stiles’s heart and it was freaking him the hell out. 

When Stiles rubbed a hip, Isaac realized he couldn’t leave the other guy on the floor like that. “I’m going to help you back on to the bed. Okay?”

Stiles didn’t put up an argument so Isaac figured he must’ve been feeling pretty shitty. Isaac stationed himself behind Stiles’s shoulders and did the heavy lifting, gently setting the human on the bed. Stiles’s face had lost its beguiling pink color and the smudges beneath his eyes were brown. The guy looked sick, not like someone who had just slept for twelve hours.

“I know you wanted to avoid going to the hospital but you don’t look so good. I think I should take you to the ER,” Isaac suggested. They’d been discussing, and in some cases, arguing, about who Stiles should see next and had failed to come to an agreement.

Once again Stiles surprised him; there was no arguing or bargaining or flat out refusal on the human’s part. 

With a deep sigh, Stiles nodded in agreement. His shoulders slumped, rounding forward, dejected.

Isaac wanted to comfort the guy but he didn’t know what to say. He settled for gently squeezing Stile’s shoulder.

Stiles made eye contact, his big, brown eyes swimming with moisture. He lifted a hand and rubbed at this chest. 

Isaac sat down on the bed next to Stiles and put his arm around the smaller man’s shoulders, pulling his close. He didn’t have to tell the human there was something seriously wrong with his heart. Stiles already seemed to know.

-0-

Stiles’s father hovered over his sleeping son. “And you just returned from an errand and found him crumpled up on the floor?” The man squinted his blue eyes at Isaac. “What were you doing before you went on the errand?”

The sheriff was definitely suspicious. And worried. Isaac couldn’t fault him; Stiles looked terrible—too small, too pale and too still—flattened across the hospital bed.

“We were sleeping. Stiles had about twelve hours of sleep. I brought him breakfast and was going to try to talk him into having some tests done but instead I found him on the floor,” Isaac explained. It wasn’t easy maintaining eye contact with the sheriff but Isaac forced himself to do it. He hadn’t done anything wrong and he only wanted to help.

Dr. Geyer entered the room after a brisk knock. “Isaac was right, Stiles’s heart has developed an arrhythmia. We’re scheduling some tests to determine the best course of treatment.”

“But what would’ve cause the arrhythmia?” Sheriff Stilinski questioned the doctor.

“A multitude of things can cause arrhythmia. Inherited gene defects, hypothyroidism or hyperthyroidism, medications, hypertension, uncontrolled diabetes, obstructive sleep apnea, electrolyte imbalances, heavy alcohol consumption, excessive caffeine use and illegal drug use. We just have to find which factor we’re dealing with, or even rule them out. What if it’s not a natural cause?” Dr. Geyer pursed his lips.

“We did try ruling the supernatural out but someone is still working on that angle,” Isaac volunteered.

“For now the best thing for Stiles is rest. I suggest no more than two visitors at a time but he needs quiet. I will restrict visits if I feel it’s in Stiles’s best interest,” the doctor concluded.

Stiles’s dad waved the thought off. “I’ll make sure Stiles isn’t disturbed. For now I think it’s best if either me, Isaac or Scott remain with my son at least for now.” 

Sheriff Stilinski walked Dr. Geyer outside and Isaac took the opportunity to pick up Stiles’s lax hand and chafe it between his own. “We need to figure this out. If you’ve got any ideas, now would be a good time to share.”

Stiles’s left eyelid twitched but the human remained asleep.

Isaac hated the waiting, the not knowing, but it looked like he didn’t have a choice. He could only hope Deaton, Scott and Lydia found something to help. Soon. 

-0-

“Dark,” Stiles slurred out, softly, rubbing his chest lightly. The first syllable or two of the next word was swallowed by a wince and all Isaac could make out was ‘ton.’

The sheriff stared across the bed at Isaac, blue eyes cloudy with moisture. “Could you make out what he said?” Stiles’s dad asked, bewildered. The family resemblance was there in the expression on the older man’s face and the way he tilted his head. Yeah, Stiles’s coloring was different but he resembled his old man in a big, big way.

Isaac remembered his own father. He sure hoped to hell that he didn’t resemble that man in any way that mattered.

Remembering the sheriff had asked him a question, Isaac shrugged his uncertainty.

Maybe whatever was ailing Stiles was causing confusion.

“Stiles, son, you need to calm down,” the Sheriff insisted as he leaned over, pushing the tumble of dark waves from Stiles’s pale forehead. “This isn’t working,” the man bit out, frustrated.

“He’s got a lot of people in his corner. We’ll figure this out,” Isaac responded. He wasn’t much good at comforting people but the sheriff seemed to need some sort of assurance.

“Are you in his corner, Isaac?” Sheriff Stilinski asked, those bright blue eyes pinning Isaac with their brilliance.

“Yeah. I mean yes, sir,” Isaac amended. Suddenly being on the good side of Stiles’s dad seemed like a good idea. Isaac wanted to be in Stiles’s life and that meant orbiting other people.

“Dark,” Stiles gasped again. He continued to tap at his breastbone but Isaac could see the effort was taking a toll. It was apparent in the heavy breathing and the way Stiles’s eyes rolled back into his head every once in a while.

Isaac leaned forward, studying Stiles. Bloodshot eyes blinked up at him and despite the circumstances, Isaac still found Stiles Stilinski to be the most attractive male he’d ever laid eyes on. 

Ignoring his feelings, Isaac concentrated on what Stiles was trying to convey. The human loved solving puzzles, exceled at it really, so Isaac was going to treat this like one, big puzzle.

“Okay, Stiles. It sounds like this is a two part clue,” Isaac suggested. “Right?” 

Stiles’s shook his head, stymieing Isaac’s train of thought. The human tapped three fingers against his chest, staring up at Isaac, willing him to understand.

“Three. A three-part clue. Okay, what’s the second clue?” Isaac coaxed. 

Stiles tapped his chest.

Isaac glanced at the Sheriff who seemed equally baffled.

The human traced something on his chest with his index finger. Something curving, ending in a point…a heart.

“Heart!” Sheriff Stilinski blurted out.

Relief smoothed out some of the tension on Stiles’s face as he shook his head yes. Or maybe that was exhaustion, not relief.

“Dark heart,” Stiles’s dad said, bouncing up and down on his heels. “What’s that?”

Suddenly the last puzzle piece snapped into place. 

Isaac had heard the story first from Allison and then Scott. Hell, Isaac had been in on the ritual. 

Deaton had told them Allison, Scott and Stiles had to be surrogate sacrifices for their parents when the Darach took them. The sacrifice would not only help save their parents but it would give power to the Nemeton, which would be some sort of beacon to all sorts of supernatural beings. There would also be darkness around their hearts for the rest of their lives.

Isaac had almost gloated that he’d been someone special to Allison, asked by Deaton to assist with the surrogate sacrifice, assisting her in the tub filled of icy water. That ritual marked the beginning of the end for the lovely young woman, at least to Isaac. He’d certainly never gotten over her death.

Neither had Stiles. Although they still had a chance to save his current lover.

Isaac shook off his memories. “The darkness around his heart. He means the Nemeton.” Isaac leaned over so he could stare deeply into Stiles’s eyes. “Do you need us to take you to the Nemeton?”

Stiles fumbled for Isaac’s hand and squeezed it weakly, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

“We need to get Stiles to the Nemeton,” Isaac announced to the sheriff.

“You want me to remove my failing son from the hospital to take him into the woods?” the sheriff asked. Isaac thought he knew how someone apprehended by Sheriff Stilinski felt—insignificant and found lacking.

After rubbing a hand over his face, the older man relaxed his shoulders. “What the hell, this is obviously not working. Let me see if Mel can help us smuggle him out.” The man retreated outside, probably summoning the nurse.

Isaac pressed a fast kiss to the corner of Stiles’s mouth. “Try to rest. I need to call Deaton. I don’t know what’s going on but I think we’re going to get very busy in a little while.”

Little did Isaac realize how prophetic those words would be, and not in the manner in which he’d intended them either.

-0-

Melissa had pulled thick white socks onto Stiles’s feet, concerned about keeping him warm. Not for the first time, Isaac marveled at the size of Stiles’s hands and feet. They really were a good indicator of another body part’s size, at least in his lover’s case.

“I’m not bothering with shoes. I think someone is going to have to carry him,” Melissa snapped him out of his thoughts.

Isaac had met her stare, nodding his head in agreement. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him.”

The nurse smoothed her hand down Isaac’s cheek; it was an eerie echo of a gesture Stiles had made before Isaac fell asleep the other night. The last night Stiles had even remotely been healthy. 

“I know you will, sweetie,” Melissa smiled at him. 

Melissa silenced the monitors and pulled off the leads on Stiles’s chest. Next she pulled out his IV. Melissa then moved on to the catheter; Isaac winced when she pulled it out but Stiles was oblivious. The nurse pulled the sheet and blankets up high on Stiles’s neck, tucking them in snugly when she was done.

After a final tug to the blankets, Melissa drew off her gloves and said, “Now I’m going to escort you down the hallway, pushing Stiles’s bed. If anyone asks, I’m telling them the doctor ordered another echocardiogram. The sheriff is pulling up his car around back, which is close to where the elevator will let us out. I’m going to stop at the nurses station to shut off his monitoring equipment and then I’ll be right back. Stay with him for me?”

Isaac, feeling like a bobblehead, nodded dumbly. Once Isaac had figured out what Stiles was trying to convey, the plan had come together very quickly.

Deaton and Scott would meet them in the preserve where Scott would lead them to the Nemeton. Supposedly due to their connection, solidified through the ritual sacrifice, Scott and Stiles could still locate the ancient magical space.

For now Isaac needed to stay with Stiles. He could do that. One step at a time. 

What if they couldn’t pull this off? What if Stiles…Isaac had to shut down that mode of thinking. 

Isaac wrapped his fingers loosely around Stiles’s wrist but he didn’t find any pain to draw. The contact might not do Stiles any good but it make Isaac feel better.

“Zak?” Stiles slurred out, pulling Isaac’s attention back to the ailing human. Isaac wasn’t sure if Stiles had assigned him a nickname or if he was too tired to say his whole name but in that moment, Isaac didn’t care—Stiles was awake.

“Yeah, Stiles. We’re heading out in a few minutes. Next stop, the Nemeton,” Isaac shared.

Stiles’s eyes kept blinking open and then closing, attention floating as though the human was searching for something to anchor him.

“It’s okay, Stiles. Just relax for now. We’ll do the heavy lifting,” Isaac soothed.

His lover seemed placated at his words and this time when the eyelids lowered, they didn’t lift again.

Melissa reappeared. “Okay, it’s show time.”

Standing back, Isaac watched as Melissa undid the medical equipment and then lifted the brakes on the bed. Following the nurse’s lead, Isaac helped steer the bed through the doorway.

“It’s okay, Isaac. I’ve got this. Just keep an eye on Stiles,” Melissa ordered as she wrestled the bed down the hallway.

Isaac had always held the nurse in great esteem but he had to add physical fitness to the long list of reasons why he thought she was awesome; pushing Stiles had to be a burden for the slight woman but she did it without complaint.

No one intervened and soon they were exiting the elevator and then spilling out into the weak sunlight.

“Isaac, pick him up and slide into the back seat. I’m going to try to wrap him like a burrito to keep him warm with these blankets,” she explained. The sheriff hovered over her shoulder, eyes glued to his son.

Even when Isaac had been young and his mother still alive, he didn’t think either parent had ever looked at him with that level of concern. Or love.

Pushing down the hurt, Isaac lifted Stiles into his arms, arm beneath his knees and the other bracketing his upper back. Stiles curved into Isaac’s body, settling against him with a wriggly snuggle.

Isaac edged along the backseat gingerly, trying not to jostle the ailing man in his arms. Melissa made quick work of bundling the blankets around Stiles until Isaac felt like he was holding a mummy.

The sheriff tousled the mop of wavy, dark hair and then the doors were closed.

The drive to the preserve was quiet except for everyone’s heartbeats.

The sheriff’s heart rabbited in his chest, anxiety apparent in each beat just as much as the acidic scent he was giving off.

Isaac’s own heartbeat was loud in his ears. The usually steady thrum was a bit more strident than usual.

And Stiles’s…that faint echo, like someone else’s heart was chiming in, was audible, at least to Isaac’s shifter enhanced hearing.

Isaac hoped with everything he had that the Nemeton would have some answers for them.

-0-

Something drew Isaac forward. It was a strong impulse and even if he had wanted to ignore it, he didn’t think he could.

The Nemeton called him. Or maybe it called Stiles but since Stiles was in Isaac’s arms they were a packaged deal.

Scott stayed at his heels but the other humans hadn’t been able to keep up once Isaac had given into the drive to _go, go, go._

There, up ahead, their destination.

It was a massive tree trunk cut down in its prime, leaving behind a flat surface. There were signs of new growth around the trunk with dark green vines and fronds sprouting in no discernable pattern.

Isaac slowed his headlong pursuit as he approached the magical tree.

The air was thick, filled with a dense fog. It had no smell or taste and it really screwed with his vision.

Scott yelled his name but it seemed to come from a great distance.

Isaac wanted to lay Stiles on the trunk. The surface was huge but Stiles wasn’t short so it was a challenge to make him fit comfortably. 

Setting Stiles down on the ground, Isaac removed the two outmost blankets. These he used to fashion some sort of nest for the unconscious man at his feet.

Stiles stretched and yawned; Isaac edited that thought—no longer unconscious.

Next Isaac lifted the pliant body into his arms, leaving the blanket and sheet on the ground. His mind was telling him he might need those layers after, but he wasn’t sure after what.

The only things Isaac couldn’t fit onto the platform were Stiles’s long legs, which dangled over one end of the stump at his knees. It was the most comfortable position Isaac could find.

Something nudged Isaac in the back of the knees and he fell forward, almost crushing Stiles beneath his weight, but catching himself at the last moment.

Isaac looked behind him and saw a vine hanging in the air, bobbing gently on the warm breeze that had risen up.

His body took notice of the warmth beneath him, especially the warmth beneath his groin. In other words, Stiles’s groin.

The Nemeton seemed to want them to perform some sort of sex magic and Isaac realized he was okay with that plan. He and Stiles were highly attracted to each other so this wasn’t a hardship.

Isaac stood up and quickly stripped out of his clothing, piling it with the sheet and blanket on the ground. He turned back to aid Stiles with his hospital issue pajama pants but the vines had already stripped them off. 

Stiles’s pale skin glowed in the white light shimmering in the cloudy atmosphere. His eyes blinked open and his lips curved into a smile. Holding out his hand, Stiles whispered, “Isaac.”

Isaac knew an invitation when he heard one and he was already climbing onto to the stump. A vine nudged him impatiently.

Stiles’s arms lifted and he drew Isaac down on top of him. “The Nemeton needs a sacrifice. Sex magic instead of blood. Will you help me?”

The other man’s voice was breathy and Isaac hoped it was due to excitement and not due to a medical condition. Stiles’s color had improved dramatically and his energy seemed to have increased. Overall the other man’s vitality had dramatically improved. Especially his cock, which stood high and smacked Stiles’s low abdomen when he shifted his weight.

Isaac took the thickening cock in his hand and squeezed it. Stiles’s arms, which had been around Isaac’s shoulders, flailed in the air before coming to rest above his own head. The other guy’s upper body arched with the new position and Isaac’s lips latched on to a nipple, his teeth nibbling at the delicate but.

Stiles whimpered and Isaac officially lost his mind.

His hands were everywhere. Petting. Stroking. Squeezing.

Isaac wrapped his hand around both of their erections and pumped, enjoying the noises spilling from Stiles’s pouty lips.

His thumb capture the liquid dribbling from Stiles’s cock and Isaac shifted Stiles’s legs until his flexible lover was almost bent in half, legs draped over Isaac’s shoulders, Isaac kneeling between his parted thighs.

He knew there wasn’t enough lubricant to ease his path but something was goading him on. As though divine intervention was at play, a broken frond with a milky substance dribbling from it drifted through on the current before landing on the stump. Isaac took the hint and gathered the natural substance, coating the fingers on his dominant hand the best he could, before transferring the substance to his own cock.

Stiles was making those needy little noises, spurring Isaac on. Isaac nudged his cock against Stiles’s sphincter and the muscle grabbed ahold and sucked him inside.

Arms now braced on each side of Stiles’s chest, Isaac’s lips hopscotched between his moist, parted mouth then down to suck and bite at his nipples.

Isaac wanted to slow down and make sure he wasn’t hurting Stiles but his lover shifted his hips upward and he lost the fight to go slowly. 

Stiles cried out, his orgasm soaking both of their abdomens.

Isaac followed quickly behind.

When Isaac came to he rolled to his side to take the weight off of Stiles but almost succeeded in catapulting himself off the side of the stump. He had to cling to the edge to avoid the fall.

Stiles was sprawled on his back, limbs akimbo, eyes closed.

“Stiles!” Isaac shook his shoulder. 

Eyelids lifted to reveal dazed brown eyes. Stiles’s lips curved into a smile. “Isaac.”

Something smacked Isaac in his chest.

It wasn’t exactly pain but it was weighty.

Stiles reached out and touched Isaac’s chest. “You felt that, too.”

Not a question. It was statement.

“What was that?”

“We’re bonded. The Nemeton bonded me to it and then I think I bonded to you.” Stiles chewed on his lower lip, looking anxious.

Isaac didn’t know what to feel. He knew he felt complete.

And satisfied.

“Let’s get you back to the others. I’m sure we can figure this out. How do you feel?” Isaac noted the pink cheeks and sparkling eyes.

“Fantastic,” Stiles murmured.

The other man yawned and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “And exhausted.”

Isaac gathered Stiles into his arms and hugged him.

The sex had been wonderful but Isaac was happier to see his lover, and friend, seemed healthier. 

If sex was what Stiles needed to remain this way, Isaac thought he was up to the task.

-0-

Isaac sat on the couch with Stiles sprawled over his lap, the other guy’s back leaning against the arm of the couch.

“Here,” Scott said, handing Isaac a bottle of Ensure.

Isaac shook up the bottle while Stiles skeptically looked on. “What flavor is that?”

Scott answered the question, “Vanilla. No, you don’t get to make that face. You need the calories and my mom said a protein drink would be an easiest way to get that.”

Uncapping the lid, Isaac handed the bottle to Stiles. “Drink up, babe. If it tastes horrible then drink it fast and you might not notice the taste.”

Stiles took the bottle, flashing both Isaac and Scott a rueful smile. “I’m sorry to be such a baby. It’s just the texture. It’s kind of…chalky.”

Swirling the bottle in his hand, Stiles took a gulp of the drink. He pulled it back and stared it. “Hey, not bad. Much better than the strawberry.”

Malia chimed in from Skype. “For fuck’s sake, Stiles. You only like real strawberries.”

The _dumbass_ at the end of the sentence was implied.

“Thanks, Malia. Feeling the love,” Stiles snarked back.

Hayden piped up. “You’d better drink it while it’s cold. Nothing’s more disgusting than dairy products, like milk, that hit room temperature.”

It was an impromptu pack meeting with the younger members in attendance. Everyone was thrilled to see Stiles up and around and had decided it was the perfect time for a pizza party.

The detritus of three pizzas, lounging in the opened boxes by way of a few crusts, were all that was left of the meal. Maybe Isaac had forgotten how much food teens could pack away—most of them shifters—but he didn’t think Derek’s pack had ever gone through so much food in one sitting.

Isaac caught the motion out of the corner of his eye; Stiles lifting the bottle and swallowing the rest of the bottle’s contents.

Stiles handed the now empty bottle off to Isaac who handed it to Scott.

“You missed some,” Isaac said, taking his thumb to the corner of Stiles’s mouth, and collecting the vanilla liquid. He held his thumb out and Stiles obliged, drawing Isaac’s digit into his mouth and sucking the Ensure from it.

Isaac’s jeans became a little tight from Stiles lavishing his oral skills on his thumb.

Mason squeaked. “I, uh, have to be somewhere. Come on, Corey. You have to be there, too.”

Hayden stood up. “Come on, Liam. We have to be somewhere, too.”

Lydia already had her coat on. “I’m supposed to meet Jordan. Now would be good.”

“You guys are really hot,” Malia exclaimed. “I wonder what I did with that vibrator,” she mused as she disconnected.

Scott was the only person left in the room. He stood in front of the couch, arms crossed. “I might’ve found that little display hot…if I didn’t consider you both brothers. Right now I’m seriously squicked out and I think I need to bleach my brain.”

Their brother gathered up the pizza boxes. “Call me later, guys,” he sang out as he sailed out the door.

“I thought they’d never leave,” Stiles smiled at Isaac.

“Oh, so that little show was planned?” Isaac asked as he palmed the erection plumping between Stiles’s legs.

“Actually, no. That was just a happy byproduct,” Stiles announced.

“You’re incorrigible,” Isaac declared. “I like that about you, Mr. Stilinski.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lahey. You were the perfect confederate,” Stiles volleyed back.

Isaac stood up, clutching Stiles to his chest.

Stiles kicked his legs slowly. “You’re spoiling me,” he said before he planted a kiss on the top bow of Isaac’s lip.

“Yeah, I am. Do you have a problem with that?” Isaac asked.

The pretty brown color of Stiles’s eyes shrunk, leaving dilating pupils in their wake.

Isaac knew his own system was telegraphing his readiness for sex. His cheeks felt warm, his heart was thumping strongly. He jiggled Stiles in his arms and when the guy threw his arms around Isaac’s neck, Isaac’s cock swelled.

Manhandling Stiles never failed to get Isaac’s motor running.

In a rush to shed their clothing, Isaac headed for the bedroom. Their afternoon calendar was clear and he planned to take advantage of Stiles’s healthy state.

He didn’t begrudge Stiles the trips to the Nemeton where their sacrifice of sex charged the tree and kept his lover healthy, but sex somewhere other than the tree stump was more comfortable on his knees and back, werewolf healing or not.

-0-

Stiles was in the bedroom, pulling on some clothes. They were supposed to meet up with Scott for a late breakfast. Apparently the True Alpha had something he wanted to discuss with them.

Stiles’s cell phone, charging in the living room, began to trill _Hungry Like The Wolf_ ; Scott’s ringtone.

Isaac snatched up the phone and swiped his finger to accept the call. Before he could even say his, Scott was speaking. “Hey, we’re meeting with Isaac at the diner around 10. Can you bring the stuff from the FBI on Camden?”

The feeling of contentment disappeared like a popped balloon. 

“Hello? Are you there?” Scott’s voice called out.

“Hey, did I hear my phone?” Stiles asked as he emerged from the bedroom, smoothing the long sleeved shirt into place.

Isaac set the phone down. He might’ve disconnected the call but he didn’t remember. He also didn’t care.

“I told you to stay out of my private business,” Isaac stated coldly.

Stiles’s brow furrowed and Isaac ignored how cute he looked. It didn’t matter how adorable, or sexy, or nice Stiles was to Isaac, he couldn’t be trusted to keep his word.

“What are you talking about?” Stiles asked, tone perplexed.

“Scott wanted to remind you to bring the stuff you dug up on Camden. Does that ring any bells?” Isaac questioned.

The confused expression on Stiles’s face didn’t waver. “What?”

“The stuff from the FBI. On Camden. Scott wanted to remind you to bring it with you,” Isaac seethed.

The numb unhappiness was twisting into anger.

Isaac had thought he’d finally found his place. With the pack. With Stiles.

As usual, it was just a mirage.

Stiles licked his lip. “I don’t—”

“Oh, please. Save your breath. I don’t need your lies. In fact I don’t need anything from you,” Isaac spat out.

The anger was definitely there. He wanted to hit out and hurt Stiles just like Isaac hurt. He felt leveled by Stiles’s betrayal. He wanted to inflict the same damage on his lover. One time lover. 

Stiles approached Isaac cautiously, head tilted, as though trying to parse out what was happening.

“The jig is up, ole chap,” Isaac snarked with a passable British accent. He smiled and it felt unnatural.

The other man cringed away, stopping in his tracks. “Isaac, please, just tell me what—”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. I told you to butt out but you think you always know best so you had to keep at it. Ignoring my wishes. Is that what you did while you were on the job? I mean I can totally understand why the FBI wanted to cut you loose so fast. And to be honest I don’t need this aggravation either. You’re an all right lay but you’re not worth the hassle. I’m out of here,” Isaac announced before he grabbed his jacket and his keys. Everything else was replaceable.

It felt good to slam the door and the cracking frame didn’t even slow Isaac’s steps.

It was time he rejoined his life in LA. It might be cold and sterile, even heartless, but he knew what to expect from everyone he came in contact with and that was nothing.

At least having no expectations meant your heart didn’t get stomped on.

-0-

Isaac had been rehired at Emerson on Hollywood Boulevard without a problem. The manager liked him ,which was fortunate since Isaac liked the place with its towering velvet curtains and dark wood. It worked well for Isaac’s schedule, too, since if was only open on Wednesdays and Fridays from 10 p.m. to 2 a.m. That meant Isaac could do what he wanted, do who he wanted, with the rest of his time.

It’s too bad that in the week he’d been back, he’d been unable to fuck anyone. Sure, plenty of people had caught his interest and he’d made plans but when it came time to hook up, he just wasn’t feeling it.

Fucking Stiles, both literally and figuratively, had fucked up Isaac.

Isaac’s phone signaled a text. Yet another one from Scott. Isaac had ignored each communication he’d received from Beacon Hills. From Scott. From Melissa. From Chris. From Lydia as well as her mom.

_We need to talk. Either call me or I’m heading down to see you._

Isaac figured this had to do with Stiles. Stiles’s precious health was probably hanging in the balance if Isaac didn’t come back and bang him.

Isaac considered that scenario. Stiles was certainly fuckable, and despite what Isaac had said he was more than a decent lay. He was probably the best Isaac had ever had, not that he’d ever tell Stiles that. Going up and dicking around…there were worse ways to do his duty to the pack.

Sighing deeply, Isaac hit Scott’s contact information and waited for his friend, and alpha, to pick up.

“Isaac, finally. I need to talk to you,” Scott said.

“Yeah, I got that. Hence the reason I called you,” Isaac returned.

“I wanted to explain about what happened before we were going to meet for breakfast,” Scott replied.

Isaac rolled his eyes, waiting for some sort of guilt fest or intercession on Stiles’s part from his best friend. Instead Scott said, “I’m sorry, I fucked up. I owe you the biggest apology ever.”

Pulling the phone away from his ear, Isaac stared at it. How did Stiles poking around in Isaac’s business translate into Scott making a mistake?

Before Isaac could voice any of that Scott plunged onward. “I overheard Stiles telling Jordan that he wasn’t going to look into what happened to Camden anymore. I went to my dad to see what he could find out because sometimes knowing something is better than imagining what happened and dude, I wanted to give you that choice. I was trying to call my dad that morning and instead hit Stiles’s number.”

Casting his memory back, Isaac could hear Scott’s words in his mind: _Hey, we’re meeting with Isaac at the diner around 10. Can you bring the stuff from the FBI on Camden?_

Oh.

Stiles knew they were meeting at the diner because Stiles was going with Isaac so why would Scott open with that nugget of information? Isaac had made the leap that Stiles was at fault because of his connections with the FBI but Rafael McCall had those same connections.

_Oh._

“Isaac? I’m really, really sorry. I wasn’t going to force any information on you, I swear.” Scott definitely sounded sorry. If he were standing in front of Isaac he would probably be sporting those puppy dog eyes, begging for forgiveness.

Unfortunately that didn’t fix the ugly scene Isaac had caused with Stiles. “What, uh, does Stiles say? I mean about me leaving?”

“Stiles didn’t say a whole lot. He said my call didn’t help but it wasn’t the reason you blew out of town,” Scott shared. “Um, why did you leave?”

Isaac blew out a breath, a curl on his forehead dancing in the displaced air. Scott was his best friend; Isaac didn’t really want to tell him he’d blamed Stiles for going behind his back about his brother. There was no need to make Scott feel like shit. 

Then why had Isaac dumped all over Stiles? He pretty much went out of his way to hurt the other guy. He had a pretty good handle on Stiles’s weaknesses and he’d gone after them with a single mindedness that surprised him.

“That’s between me and Stiles,” Isaac settled for.

“Yeah, I figured it was Stiles’s fault when he didn’t want to talk about it. Sometimes I think he goes out of his way to sabotage everything,” Scott shared.

Despite all of the shitty things Isaac had been thinking about Stiles up until five minutes ago, he became defensive. “Actually, Scott, Stiles didn’t do anything wrong. This was all on me,” Isaac growled.

“Well then maybe it would be nice if you told him that?” Scott suggested. 

Isaac had been played by Scott. He had to hand it to his friend, he had picked up some tricks along the way. He was no longer the completely naïve pack Pollyanna.

That still left the mess with Stiles. “Yeah, I guess I’ll be heading out your way once I get my shit together.”

“Hey, Isaac?”

“Yeah?”

“Just get your ass back here. Everyone misses you.”

Isaac rolled his eyes. “See you soon.”

-0-

Isaac let himself in the front door per Scott’s instructions. His friend was just ending a phone call. “Yeah, I know. I’m worried, too. If you could stay another hour then I’ll have someone come out and relieve you. Thanks, Liam.”

“What’s up?” Isaac asked, recognizing the worried expression on Scott’s face.

The other man shrugged.

Isaac waited him out. Obviously something was happening and this would prove whether or not Isaac was considered pack.

“We’ve got a bit of a situation,” Scott finally shared. “But we’ve got it covered.”

A raised eyebrow was Isaac’s response.

Scott heaved a sigh. “Stiles went to the Nemeton and although Liam, Hayden and I have all found it before, this time it’s like it, and Stiles, have disappeared. Lydia even did a locator spell and we know right where it should be, but we still can’t find it.”

“Wait. Stiles is out there alone?” Isaac asked in disbelief. “For how long?”

Folding his arms over his chest, Scott frowned. “He wanted to go alone. Mason was helping him with some alternatives to, you know, the sex magic and so far the Nemeton hasn’t really hurt Stiles so it seemed like it was worth a try. It’s going on twenty-four hours.”

Did Isaac feel guilty? Absolutely. He’d formed a bond with Stiles on the Nemeton and then left him hanging while he had his little meltdown. Not cool.

Setting aside his guilt for now, Isaac asked, “What alternatives?”

Scott relaxed his posture, scratching the back of his neck. “I think they decided on a bottle of bourbon and some pot. Something about breaking down the door and making the connection through alcohol and drugs.”

Isaac scrubbed his hands over his face. “Okay, I’ve taken Stiles to the Nemeton before when he was too weak to walk. Maybe it will let me get close.”

Scott looked skeptical but he was agreeable. “Yeah, sure. It’s worth a shot. I’ll come with so I can give Liam a break.”

Isaac followed the Jeep, his Monster coasting to a stop next to Scott. 

Pointing to the west, Scott said, “I know it’s that way. I can get us to the vicinity but then nothing.”

“Let me try,” Isaac said, as he set off at a fast walk. 

He could feel the pull of the bond. Or maybe it was the Nemeton itself. In any case there was a sense of urgency and soon Isaac had progressed to a jog. The jog then turned into a sprint.

The pressure in Isaac’s chest was easing, at odds with his breathlessness, but he knew they were closing in on Stiles.

Isaac skidded to a stop as he rounded a tree. Stiles was sitting at the base of another tree. It was an Oak with a stout trunk and shiny green foliage.

The last time Isaac had been here, the Nemeton had still been a flat stump. This was surreal. Then again it was a magical tree sucking the energy out of a spark.

“Stiles,” Isaac called out as he approached his…whatever Stiles was to him. Boyfriend? Well, not after Isaac accused Stiles of going behind his back. Friend? Maybe not even that since Isaac had left Stiles alone to deal with the Nemeton. Isaac might not have a ready label but he still cared for the other man.

Stiles’s head lifted. “Hey, Isaac. What are you doin’ here?” The sentence was punctuated by a hiccup instead of a question mark.

“The pack is worried about you,” Isaac answered, his gaze drinking in the sight before him.

Stiles was in a worn hoodie and jeans, back against the tree, knees bent, with a bottle of amber colored liquid on the ground before him. He looked okay. Maybe a little pale but nothing out of the ordinary for the other guy.

The big doe eyes were glassy though. The liquid in the bottle was about to the halfway point so that might explain the glassy eyes.

Isaac turned to see what Scott thought and he realized there was some sort of barrier between them. Scott was standing next to Liam and both men had their arms crossed over their chest. The alpha was frowning but the beta had a full scowl.

Stiles picked up the bottle and took a deep pull from it. He wiped the back of his arm over his lips before holding the bottle out. “Do you want some?”

“No, thanks.”

“Suit yourself. Oh, that’s right—you always do,” Stiles giggled as he set the bottle back down. 

Isaac ignored the comment and tried once again. “Stiles, you’ve been here for more than twenty-four hours. Everyone is worried about you.” 

“Gee, Isaac, things are little different now. It takes the Nemeton a little longer to fully charge now that the sex magic is off the menu.” Stiles rubbed his hands on his thighs.

Isaac remembered when those big hands rubbed other body parts. He shook the mental image.

“I’m sorry, Stiles. I should’ve listened to you when you said you hadn’t been poking around in my business,” Isaac said. “I shouldn’t have taken off like that, not with our bond.”

Stiles shrugged, the motion slow. Lethargic. 

Something moved in Isaac’s peripheral vision.

Branches bobbed gently, stretching toward the ground. The limbs waved, bending until Stiles was partially obscured from Isaac’s view. 

Panic surged through Isaac’s nervous system. “Stiles!”

A root poked out of the ground, startling Isaac’s already addled nerves. The light brown and tan appendages curled around the human, lightly lashing him to the trunk.

Isaac rushed forward and tried to tug the other man loose. A branch sprang up, batting Isaac away.

Another root pushed through the earth, winding its way around Stiles, securing him more tightly against the tree. Away from Isaac’s reach.

For a moment Isaac wondered if this was turning into tree porn. If Isaac wasn’t going to provide Stiles with a sexual partner, maybe the Nemeton was going to do it—do Stiles—itself.

Isaac redoubled his efforts to get to Stiles, enduring scratches and punctures from the flailing branches and occasional root.

“I don’t need you, Isaac. In fact I think we’re done here. You’re released from our bond,” Stiles said. His voice was low, almost choked, and Isaac didn’t know if it was from emotion or if the tree was impeding the other guy’s breathing.

Before Isaac could figure out his next step, something snapped in his chest.

The bond was broken.

Isaac was propelled through the air, skidding across the ground, coming to rest when he hit another solid object.

Strong hands hauled him upright, depositing Isaac on his feet.

“Dude, where’s Stiles?” Liam gave Isaac a little shake, the scowl still very visible on his otherwise handsome features.

“Liam, please,” Scott said sternly. He turned his full attention toward Isaac, disentangling him from Liam’s grip. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Isaac said. At least he thought that was the case. He hadn’t really taken stock of his own injuries. “Stiles is…,” he paused, unsure of how to explain what he saw.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, spit it out, Isaac,” Liam said. His compact body vibrated with concern, impatience or fury, Isaac couldn’t tell which.

“Isaac, what happened? One minute I could see you and then you disappeared,” Scott explained.

“It’s what we thought, the Nemeton is keeping Stiles behind a barrier of sorts. Stiles said it’s taking longer for the Nemeton to charge now that I’m not, you know, helping,” Isaac stammered.

Both of Liam’s hands clenched into fists but he kept them by his side instead of flying out to smack Isaac. “What else did Stiles say?”

“That he didn’t need me. Or the bond,” Isaac said. He rubbed a fist over his chest, trying to ease the hollow sensation. 

“What did you expect?” Liam said.

“Liam, please, you’re not helping,” Scott admonished. The younger beta paced away, mumbling under his breath. Isaac could’ve listened in but he didn’t need to hear what Liam was saying; he was pretty sure he knew.

“Are you okay?” Scott threw an arm around Isaac’s shoulder.

Isaac let himself be comforted by the touch of his alpha. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

Scott snorted. “Dude, Stiles is pretty tough. He has to be in order to hang with this crowd. Unless there’s something you’re not telling me it sounds like he’ll be out when he’s through. Why don’t you head back and I’ll let you know when we’re out of here?”

“Is it okay if I wait here with you?” Isaac asked.

“I don’t mind but Stiles might. I’m sure he’ll let us know if he has a problem with it,” Scott said.

They settled down on the ground. Scott didn’t even try to make small talk but some how it was companionable. If only Stiles hadn’t broken the bond like that. The guilt was filling the void in his chest left by the broken bond.

Stiles stumbled out of nowhere. Scott was on his feet and rushing the human, pulling him into a bear hug. “Are you okay?”

“Just tired,” Stiles said. “And maybe drunk.”

“Do you want a lift back or would you rather walk?” Scott asked the other man.

Isaac hung back, afraid his presence would cause a problem.

“Do you think I could have a lift?” Stiles said, yawning hugely.

Isaac stepped forward, his arms out, but the other two men ignored him. Scott turned his back and Stiles jumped on, wrapping his legs around the alpha’s waist and winding his arms around his neck.

Scott hitched Stiles upward, settling him more comfortably in the standard piggyback ride position. “Just relax. I’ll get you home in no time.”

Isaac trailed behind, ready to catch Stiles if he slipped.

“Isaac, could you please let everyone know Stiles is okay?” Scott asked.

“I already took care of it,” Liam said as he fell in behind Scott, denying Isaac even the opportunity to stare at Stiles’s backside.

The trek back to the Jeep was quiet, broken only by their footfalls and Stiles’s quiet snuffling.

Isaac continued to rub at his chest. He really had no one but himself to blame for the state of things with Stiles.

-0-

Isaac had thrown himself into his duties as the new manager of Natalie Martin’s club. Natalie had all of the plans in place and all Isaac had to do was execute them.

His years of working in bars had paid off in a big, big way. Isaac’s wage was more than he’d thought he’d ever make, at least with his lack of higher education.

“Congratulations, Isaac. This is really something to be proud of here.” Chris was always his staunchest supporter and Isaac was grateful for his praise.

Scott slapped him on the back. “Dude, this place rocks!” Isaac had officially accepted Scott as his alpha. Joining the pack had given him the stability he didn’t even realize he missed.

In fact everyone in the pack who was of age attended the grand opening of Martininis. To Isaac’s surprise, that included Stiles.

As far as break-up’s went, theirs had been pretty peaceful after Isaac’s initial temper tantrum. There was no one taking sides and when the two men ended up in the same location, they were cordial with one another.

The distance hurt. Staying busy with the club had been a good distraction but it couldn’t replace what had been the most important relationship of Isaac’s adult life. He missed not only the sex but also the friendship he’d cultivated with Stiles. To be near the other man but not touch him the way his wolf demanded was a different type of torture than Isaac had ever suffered. He wanted to do something to change things but he’d been the one to break the trust between them and he didn’t think he deserved Stiles’s forgiveness.

He didn’t even know how to go about earning it.

When there was a break in the action from his duties, Isaac sought out Stiles as it always did. The human was hugging some of his friends, waving at others, all the while edging toward the exit.

Stiles slipped out of the door as it opened with the arrival of yet more patrons.

Natalie put her hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go ahead and take a break? You certainly deserve one and I can handle things for a while.”

Isaac nodded his agreement before he bee-lined out the door. Stiles was standing out near the road, looking up every time a car going by slowed down.

It was easier to let others do the work in the relationship department, it was what Isaac was accustomed to, but he made himself give this a shot. His wolf grumbled approval in the back of his mind. “Hey, Stiles, can I talk to you for a moment?” 

The other man glanced up and down the road before turning to face Isaac. “I called for an Uber but it’s late. Hey, congratulations on the grand opening. The place looks great and the service is top-notch.”

This time Isaac’s human side pushed to the fore of his awareness; he was pleased to receive the accolades from Stiles and the guy’s heartbeat was steady—he wasn’t just paying lip service.

“Thanks. I’m really glad I decided to take the job. Working with Natalie has been a really good experience.” Isaac wished he had the gift of gab like Stiles did so he could explain his feelings better.

Stiles’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “You’re really good at this, Isaac. Mrs. Martin is lucky to have you.”

Isaac rubbed the back of his neck, nervous. “Hey, I, uh, wanted to say I’m sorry. About before. It wasn’t fair of me to make assumptions and then not let you explain. That’s what I really came out here to say.” Heat flooded Isaac’s face and climbed down his neck; he was embarrassed about how he’d acted, blaming Stiles for going behind his back and basically calling him a lousy lay; neither accusation was remotely true.

The smile faded from Stiles’s eyes. “Thank you for the apology.” 

Stiles’s attention drifted over Isaac’s shoulder as the door to the bar opened and Scott stuck his head outside; Isaac recognized the soft exclamation of surprise his alpha made when he saw the two men together. Scott darted back inside before either Isaac or Stiles could say anything.

“Subtlety doesn’t seem to be in Scott’s repertoire.” Stiles snorted softly as he watched the door close. A fond smile made an appearance.

“I think he’s happy we’re talking.” Isaac knew damned well Scott wanted them to talk, more specifically he wanted Isaac to apologize to the other man. Well he’d made the first overture but it didn’t seem as though Stiles was ready to accept it.

Stiles rolled his eyes at Isaac. “You think? Anyway, I wanted to tell you I’m sorry, too.”

“For what?” Isaac was completely flummoxed. 

“For two broken souls we moved pretty quick through the stages of our relationship and it wasn’t fair to tie you to me like that.” Stiles’s expression was earnest and once again Isaac could hear the regular heartbeat proving the truth of his words.

“You’re not mad at me?” Hope welled deep in Isaac’s chest.

“I’m not going to lie, what you said to me really hurt. But I think I saw right away where you were coming from. I think I’ve always known.” Stiles’s nostrils flared and he frowned. “Don’t ever do that to me again though. You can be upset with me but cutting me off like that…I’ll lose my damn mind if one more person leaves me.”

That was a sentiment Isaac could get behind. 

Oh.

“Are you saying you’re willing to give me another chance?” 

Stiles’s shoulders hunched forward and he looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I know I’ve got some stuff to work out and I think you do, too. I don’t know if we have what it takes to make it as a couple but I’m not ready to give up. Maybe we could take things more slowly this time?”

Isaac’s wolf was just about dancing on its hind legs, ecstatic at the idea of holding Stiles again.

Isaac stepped forward until he was within touching distance. He slowly raised his arms and drew Stiles against his chest.

“Uh, that’s not exactly what I meant when I suggested we take things slowly.” Stiles’s voice was low and raspy and it did things to Isaac’s libido. 

Isaac swallowed any other words Stiles might have uttered as he cradled the back of Stiles’s head in his hands and brushed his lips against the other man’s lips. His tongue darted out and licked at the seam of Stiles’s lips until he groaned and opened up under Isaac’s attentions.

“Excuse me, did someone call an Uber?”

He’d been so caught up in touching Stiles again, Isaac had let his guard down. Sometimes his shifter instincts sucked.

Stiles pressed a kiss to Isaac’s cheek. “I’m gonna go. Call me and we can do something low-key like a movie and a burger on your day off, okay?” Stiles disappeared into the Honda Accord.

Isaac pressed his hand to his cheek and he could feel a goofy smile break over his face.

Did he want to take things slow? Not really, but he could admit it was the right thing to do.

For both Stiles’s and his own sake.

-0-

Isaac had taken Stiles’s words to heart about working stuff out in his own life. Being a part of Scott’s pack and spending more time with Chris had a stabilizing influence on him but there was one thing nagging at him.

His brother.

He sat across the table at the diner, his fingers shredding a napkin nervously, as Scott’s father pushed a folder at him. “This picture was taken during a black ops in Croatia. The resolution isn’t the best but tell me if you recognize anyone.”

Isaac poured over the picture, attention bouncing from one face to the next. 

Right there, in the middle. His brother. True to form, his brother was always in the middle of things.

“Cam.” Isaac sighed his brother’s nickname. His hair was shorter, and darker, but there was no mistaking Isaac was staring at Cam’s high cheekbones, pointy chin and light colored eyes. His brother had bulked up and was no longer the skinny 18 year- old Isaac waved off to boot camp.

“Isaac, you should know that when I pulled this information my request was tagged and someone got in touch with me about it.” Isaac had always considered Rafael McCall to be a stern man but right now it was like staring at an older version of Scott with the soft, brown eyes filled with compassion.

Isaac swallowed convulsively. “Cam?”

Rafa nodded his assent. “Apparently he goes by Caleb Laffey now. Not really a surprise since Camden Lahey died in combat and he couldn’t keep running into people who would be surprised by his supposed death seeing as he was upright and breathing.”

Isaac thought of Jordan who had apparently experienced that very thing. It was Jordan’s response that had kicked off Isaac’s feelings of hostility toward Stiles for trying to find answers for Isaac.

Scott’s father cleared his throat. “Major Laffey would very much like to meet with you if you’re interested. He has leave coming up next month. He wasn’t sure you’d want anything to do with him seeing as he’s no longer completely human. I assured him I didn’t think that would be a problem.”

Huh. So Cam was a shifter, or something. Wouldn’t his big bro be surprised when they compared notes on the supernatural?

And just like that something around his heart lightened.

When Isaac had been young he’d broken his wrist. Well no, actually his dad had broken his wrist. In any event, when the plaster cast—he was so young fiberglass casts weren’t widely used—had been removed, his arm had lifted into the air. Free from the extra weight, his arm rose as though a helium balloon had been released into the sky. His heart had that similar lightness to it.

Isaac didn’t know exactly how things would play out going forward but with the love and support of the pack, and Stiles, he could face it. He was even excited about getting to know Cam again although he wanted to take that slow. Slow seemed to be a theme as of last but he’d been burned many times over by his so-called family and he wasn’t going to let his new family suffer for his choices.

For now he was going to enjoy being surrounded by people who cared for him.

His family.

 

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> In case you were wondering, I nicknamed this story 'two assholes in love' while I was writing it. The Hurt/Comfort prompt is actually Family and for some reason this turned out to be the longest fic I wrote for this bingo card. I usually have a favorite scene and in this one it was Stiles channeling his inner Highlander.
> 
> If you read this to its conclusion, thank you for sticking with it!


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